


Antonius

by LordQuidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 41,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordQuidditch/pseuds/LordQuidditch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Potters never looked after Harry as a child - at least, not properly. Instead, they lavished attention upon his younger brother, Indignus Morosus Potter, believed to be the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry left home at eight years old, aided by his sympathetic Uncles, Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin, two of his father's childhood friends. Join him as he carves a path for himself in the wilderness of wizarding society with his adoptive family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the exact same story as is posted on FanFiction . net, so do not be surprised if this seems familiar. Reviews are welcome, as is constructive criticism - flames are not! Enjoy!

_The couple had just arrived home from a Ministry conference as to the whereabouts of Voldemort's Death Eaters._ _What met their eyes was a scene of utter devastation, the house in ruins, and the sound of crashing rubble rose to their ears.._

* * *

_"Harry! Indignus!"_

_James Potter ran swiftly up the stairs, panic marked upon his features._

_When he reached the door of his sons' bedroom, he barged down the door with his shoulder, terrified of what he might see. Staring upon the room, he dropped to his knees. They were alive! His sons, Harry and Indignus Potter, were somehow alive. Harry was splayed out on the floor on top of his brother, barely breathing, scratches and wounds everywhere from where he had covered his younger sibling. Underneath him laid a sleeping Indignus Potter, untouched save for a bright red lightening bolt-shaped scar on slightly below his left ear, and on his palm, just beneath what would be his ring finger. But that was not the most astonishing thing there. To their left lay a pale Feldgrau green body encased in ebony robes. In its hand lay a yew wand with a curved ivory handle. The corpse's eyes were a dark brown colour flecked with blood red spots._

_Lily Potter stood downstairs, in a state of near collapse, her face covered with tears of grief. There was no way in her mind that either of the boys could have survived._

_"Lily! They're up here! They're - they're alive!"_

_She gasped, wondering whether she had heard correctly._

_"Lily! Come on!"_

_Hearing her husband shout another time, she hurtled up the remaining steps leading to her husband's location_

_Bursting into the room and seeing her children and James together, alive, she crumpled to the floor, just caught by her hysterical husband._

_'They need medical treatment!' he thought frantically, searching for a solution._

_Then, remembering something, he dug into his pockets and retrieved a small, carnelian, phoenix-sculptured broach. He looked at it, and noticed it was not working as he had hoped._

_He had forgotten to use the activation code._

_"Phoenix Flight!" he cried desperately._

_Suddenly, he felt a slight jerk from behind his navel, and he knew it had worked. The last thing he knew before his drowsiness took over, was the soft thud of his feet hitting a soft carpeted floor, and the shout of his name._

_"James!"_

_He stumbled forward awkwardly, and fell unconscious, exhausted both mentally and physically, drifting into blissful oblivion._

**_... A couple of days later ..._ **

_In front of a huge crowd, Albus Dumbledore made what would probably be the most important announcement the wizarding world had ever heard._

_"There is a prophecy. A prophecy concerning the defeat of Dark Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. And this prophecy refers to Indignus Morosus Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!_ _It goes thus:_

_He who shall vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies,_

_Born to those who thrice defied him._

_The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal_

_And he shall have powers the Dark Lord knows not._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh moth dies." he finished._

_Turning around, he smirked. 'No one need know of the rest. It is unimportant - at least - it can be rendered so.'_

* * *

Harry was playing with a small, wooden Ukrainian Ironbelly toy, when he heard his mother shout at him from the other side of the nursery, where she was busy interacting with Indignus.

"Harry! Give that toy to Indi."

He continued playing as if he hadn't heard her.

"Harry!"

Again, he ignored her in favour of the toy.

"Harry James Potter! If you don't come over here right now, you won't be allowed on the broom until next summer!"

At this, he tilted his head towards Lily's voice, and stared at her with his emerald green eyes, a strange hardness apparent in his gaze. Although they had the same eyes, she could never match his piercing glare, even after years of practice on her husband. It was so unmoving that she couldn't help but cringe involuntarily when she came into contact with it.

"I've never been allowed on the broom anyway." he said coldly.

"What do you mean? Of course you've been on it, you-" Lily started incredulously, only to be cut off by a bawl from the four year old Indignus.

"I want my toy back!"

"Look what you've done now, you stupid boy! You've made Indi cry!"

Harry turned away, resuming his previous activities.

Angered by her son's arrogance, Lily summoned the toy into her hand, and passed it gently down to Indi.

"There, there Indi. Mummy got you your toy back." she said soothingly to the young child.

Hearing those words, Harry stood up and swivelled, facing his mother and brother. "His toy?  _His_  toy? He's never shown any interest in the toy before,  _has he_?" he asked angrily. " _And_ , in case you don't remember, Uncle Padfoot gave it to  _me_  for  _my_  Christmas present last year."

Lily looked at him, shocked that he would speak to her like this. She was so appalled at his disrespect that she could hardly utter a thing as she watched her son storm out of the room, tears welling up in his eyes.

However, she did not dwell upon it long, as a cracking noise brought her head twirling round to stare at the younger of the siblings, who had blood dripping slowly out of his little finger.

"James! Get the portkey ready! We need to visit St. Mungo's!"

Her husband came rushing into the room, fear etched on his face. "What's happened?" he asked, scared.

"Indi's cut himself!"

The moment she had said those words, James drew a portkey from his trousers and handed it to Lily. "Come on, let's go!  _Asclepieia_!" he shouted, and the two were whisked away to the wizarding hospital.

**_... Ten minutes later ..._ **

"How rude! I mean, this is the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, Voldemort's Vanquisher! How could that stupid, lowly, good-for-nothing nurse be so insensitive as to say he needed no medical treatment?!"

"I know, dear. You can trust that I'm going down there tomorrow to fix this!" James muttered irately, escorting a fuming Lily inside.

Harry watched them carry Indignus through the garden and into the house, and snorted. They didn't even know the meaning of his name, for goodness' sake. It was rather funny, when you think about it. After all, 'Indignus' meant 'unworthy' in Latin, and 'Morosus' was the Latin version of 'capricious' or 'fickle'. Hardly the most fitting names for the saviour of the wizarding world, was it? Good old Sirius.

Sirius had been one of Harry's only friends, with the exceptions of Remus Lupin and Neville Longbottom, who was the same age as him. Then again, Cedric Diggory was a nice bloke, even though he was older than Harry, as was Roger Davies, a close friend of Cedric's. They had been the only people he'd ever really interacted with, or been allowed to talk to.

He'd contacted Sirius immediately after his parents had left with his 'injured' brother, via his two-way mirror, something that Sirius and Remus had made specifically for such occasions. He told him all about the toy incident, and where his parents were. Sirius, as usual, was horrified by what he heard, and promised to help Harry escape the place he subconsciously called 'prison'.

In a month or so, he'd be ready to live the corner of the world he referred to as 'hell-hole' and be truly free, with his Uncles - Sirius Black and Remus Lupin - who were his father's childhood friends. Despite that fact, they saw through James and Lily Potter's charades, and loved Harry, something no one else really did.

He would be free!

* * *

**_... A month later ..._ **

Harry woke up with a jolt, startled by an unknown noise. His bed was messy and creased from his movements when asleep. He had nightmares, the same as always, the ones he earned from the night of Voldemort's defeat, and his trunk was on the window-sill.

He sat up on his bed, and looked towards the door, rubbing his eyes sleepily. However, his sleepiness was easily overtaken by excitement. He knew what would happen next - after all, they had been planning this for almost a month.

Harry heard the soft noise of padded feet outside the door, and climbed to the window, opening it carefully.

At the same time, the door swung open slowly, so as not to wake James and Lily, and a large black dog nuzzled its way into the room, followed by a tall, mouse-haired man in shabby robes.

Harry greeted them joyously, and looked nervously at the man. He produced two small items from his pocket and enlarged them, turning them into what appeared to be two Comet Two Sixty brooms, the best on the market.

Then, after a nod from the man, the dog transformed, growing and growing until it became a dark-haired man in his late twenties, and was enveloped in a bone crushing hug from Harry.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Harry inquired in a low voice.

"But of course, pup. Come on, Remus, we've overstayed our welcome." the dark haired man intoned gently.

Seizing a broom, he motioned for Harry to climb aboard, and took off slightly ahead of the other man.

On his way out of the window, Harry just had time to seize his trunk and held on tight to the man's middle as he flew off into the beautiful night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Shall we, gentlemen?" Harry inquired in a low voice._

_"But of course, pup. Come on, Remus, we've overstayed our welcome." the dark haired man intoned gently._

_Seizing a broom, he motioned for Harry to climb aboard, and took off slightly ahead of the other man._

_On his way out of the window, Harry just had time to seize his trunk and held on tight to the man's middle as he flew off into the beautiful night sky._

* * *

The wind rushed through his unkempt hair as he sped over the surrounding countryside. His clothes rustled slightly in the breeze, and he felt alive. More alive than ever before.

The dark-haired man turned to look over his shoulder at his young charge, and was greeted by the sight of the joyful, ecstatic face of his godson, Harry. He had been a little apprehensive at first, as he was unsure how Harry would take to riding a broom in tandem. Unbeknownst to even him, though, Harry had been sneaking into the Potter family broom cupboard at night since the age of four, with the sole purpose of learning how to fly. Now, he was used to it, but he still felt the thrill of flight.

To his right and a little behind him flew his best childhood friend, Remus John Lupin, a werewolf. That was another reason he loved Harry so much - he didn't seem to care, he treated Remus normally, like just another person, like it was natural. And Remus loved him too, more than he had thought possible. They were family, all of them.

Facing forwards once again, he accelerated into the darkness around him.

A few minutes later, the two brooms touched down, and they dismounted, hair swept around their faces and robes billowing in the night air. Standing in the middle of a muggle street in London, they looked up, staring at the gap between two houses. All of a sudden, there was a loud rumbling sound, and a large, four storey house appeared to stretch out between its neighbours, who, strangely, didn't notice a thing.

"Ah, the wonders of magic. Come on Harry, let's get inside." the dark-haired man breathed.

"Ok, Sirius." Harry replied.

And with those words, the three of them walked up to the front door, opened it, and entered, closing it carefully behind them.

* * *

The three of them stood in the dark hallway. Blackness surrounded them on all sides, the narrow walkway testament to the age of the house. In a small, secluded corner of the entrance stood a large umbrella stand resembling an infant troll's leg. Walking past it, Harry grimaced in distaste.

Sirius noticed his expression and agreed wholeheartedly with him. It had been a Black trademark to cut off limbs of their dead creature enemies - in this case the daughter of a Forest Troll caught trespassing a couple of feet inside Schwarzwald (also known as Black Forest) in Germany, one of the Black family's many estates.

He had been disgusted when told of its history, and had secreted himself in his bedroom for the following month, leaving only to speak to his fellow Marauders and to play Quidditch. It was one of the things that made him a Gryffindor, instead of following his ancestral past and being sorted into Slytherin like his younger brother, Regulus Arcturus Black.

Regulus ... he had joined the Dark Lord Voldemort's side after being brain-washed by his bitter, hate-filled mother. The Dark Lord attempted to kill the loyal Black family house-elf, Kreacher, a close friend and confident of Regulus'. He turned against his parents and fled the Death Eater ranks, hiding himself away in France, but not before stealing something valuable to Voldemort's cause and sending word to Sirius of his plans. He could picture the letter, written in Regulus' habitual, neat, curly calligraphy.

* * *

_Dear Sirius,_

_I am sorry. When our parents convinced me to betray you and your friends, I had illusions of grandeur and splendour. I believed muggles were inferior, and that the Dark Lord would purge our world of their dirt, their ... filth. Our parents always preferred me, I cannot lie. They saw me as the perfect chance to gain favour with the one person they thought would bring our family utmost power and respect, and I was happy to make them proud, to raise our family to new, exalted highs._

_I was wrong. I should have listened to you, brother. You tried to persuade me, to make me see sense, but by then I was too far past the brink of indecision._

_The things I saw ... the things I did - they were terrible. I saw men, women and children, tortured instants before death, often to the point of insanity; I saw rape, murder, destruction, and I wished more than once for blindness, so I could not visually witness the horrors around me. But I could still hear, and I was not lame. I learnt of an object the Dark Lord wanted retrieving. I saw it as the perfect opportunity for escape - that is, until Kreacher was summoned._

_He was going to kill Kreacher, Sirius. Kreacher was my one true friend, something even you could not be. It was then I realised the atrocities in which I had found myself entangled. I took Kreacher with me to a cave, where the item was hidden. We had to cross a lake to get to a small island, upon which a cup and something resembling an ornate pensieve were stood._

_It was full of a clear, icy liquid, and there was no other way to get to the object. I had to drink it. I reached for the cup, but Kreacher had already grabbed it and plunged it into the liquid. When I turned around, he was gulping it down. All of a sudden he started convulsing, writhing on the rocks. I knocked away the cup. It was poison, Sirius. There could be no rest for me until I had drunk every last drop of it and seized the item. It was a locket. But not just any locket, Sirius. It had an emerald snake engraved into it with a ruby eye that seemed almost to move. It was the locket of Salazar Slytherin._

_I had to get out of there Sirius, to save not only myself, but Kreacher too. I carried him to the boat we used to cross, and laid him inside. Then, something grabbed me. A hand, pale as the moon itself, and crumbling gradually, the flesh eaten away by the ages. All around us there were bodies, trying to pull us into the water, to make us one of them. They were Inferi, Sirius._

_I held them off as long as I could, but the boat started to sink, one of them took Kreacher, and tried to drag him under. I did something I will always be ashamed of, Sirius. I used Fiendfyre. They fell, all of them, and I seized Kreacher. You recall Kreacher saying he would never disobey a direct order? Well, he didn't lie. I shook him and shook him, praying out loud for him to stay alive and get us out of there. He did. He disapparated straight out of the cave, taking me with him. He saved me that night. We reached our old castle, the one we used to play in - you remember, in France? Well, matron was there. She took him to the hospital wing, and she kept him alive. Later, I took Kreacher to Valtor Parisienne, the wizarding hospital, and they cured him. After three weeks, albeit, but they cured him all the same, even though he was a house-elf._

_I'm sorry, Sirius. I truly am._

_Keep in touch, brother._

_R.A.B_

* * *

Regulus now lived in the Chateau de Noirieux in north-west France, another of the Blacks' numerous properties, with a wife and two children, Procyon and Adhara. He and Sirius visited each other frequently, and contacted each other regularly. Regulus even invited Sirius to his wedding, making him best-man, something Sirius had now done twice - once for James and once for his brother. Then, eight months later, the twins were born, and Regulus made Sirius their godfather, even letting him name them Procyon and Adhara. It was the proudest moment in his life, but he could never care for them like he cared for Harry.


	3. Chapter 3

Sirius was shaken suddenly from his memories by his godson.

"Sirius? Are you all right? Your eyes went a bit ... weird." he heard Harry say.

Returning to his normal jovial self, Sirius inquired jokingly "What do you mean, weird? My eyes are beautiful, thank you."

"You couldn't be beautiful if you tried. Now me ... that's another thing entirely." Remus snorted loudly, puffing out his chest and batting his eyelashes.

Harry burst out laughing. "Honestly, though ... they did go a bit weird. Glossed over, almost. And shiny."

"That, Harry, is called being on drugs. Even Sirius isn't that irresponsible - at least, not when you're present, that is." Remus exclaimed extravagantly, sweeping his arm in a semi-circle and proceeding to puff on an imaginary spliff.

Sirius took up a hurt expression and turned away from the two of them, sniffling. This just made them laugh all the harder.

"You know that doesn't work, Sirius. The only person I know of that ever fell for that was ... oh wait, no-one did!"

"At least I don't have to resort to such posturing, Moony." Sirius threw back.

Remus did the only mature thing available to him, and stuck out his tongue like a little child. Harry giggled, clutching at his side while Sirius roared with mirth and soon enough both of them were rolling around helplessly on the floor.

"What? What?" Remus asked, panicking slightly. He still remembered some of the pranks the Marauders played at school.

Harry finally regained his breath and gasped. "Your tongue - it's bright blue!" he wheezed, before lapsing into another fit of giggles, accompanied by Sirius.

"You little mutt! I think we should get you neutered. Then maybe you won't piss yourself with laughter all the time." said Remus with an evil grin.

Sirius yelped and rushed from the hallway, crashing head-on into a closed door.

He turned around, and saw Remus looking very serious (no pun intended) in a vet's outfit holding a set of huge gardening shears in his hand, a disturbing smile plastered on his face. He whimpered.

A snigger escaped Remus' mouth and erupted into full-scale hysterics.

"Merlin save us." Sirius muttered under his breath. "Merlin save us all from this 'humour'."

* * *

After a couple of hours they had all recovered from their bouts of hilarity and were back to their normal selves (not that it's much different).

* * *

They were sitting in the living room, each of them sprawled comfortably on the luxurious armchairs.

Sirius eyed Harry contemplatively, a slight frown upon his face.

_How could anyone neglect him?_ Sirius asked himself.  _He's the sweetest child I have ever met. What could have happened to Prongs the Marauder that turned him into James Potter, all-round snob and arrogant bastard? I remember the days before the attack. He was caring, he loved Harry, more than life itself - more so even than Lily. The Prongs I knew would never do this. So what the hell happened?_

Harry noticed him, and smiled at him.  _Merlin, he's gonna be a lady-killer some day with that smile._  A smirk appeared on Sirius' face. _I wonder ..._

"Harry?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, Sirius?" Harry replied.

"Well, there's a bit of a ... party, a ball if you will ... that Remus and I have to attend. And we've been asked to bring our heirs along to mingle. It's nothing terribly important, just a bit of political whatnot, most of it to do with gaining alliances and the like. It's just ... Remus doesn't have an heir."

Remus' head jerked up upon hearing his name. Sirius winked at him.

"I, unfortunately, already have one - but he might be going with his own father and be too busy to act as Heir Black. As such, if Moony agrees, I propose to make you his heir until such time as he has a male child. But, here it becomes a little complicated." Sirius stopped.  _Well, here goes ..._  "Will you become Heir Lupin-Black?"

"Padfoot!" Remus was shocked.

Harry was stunned. "Does- does this mean you're ... the two of you are -" Harry paused uncomfortably.

Sirius emitted his habitual bark-like laughter. "You think ... you think we're gay?"

Harry nodded, ashamed.

"No, pup." Sirius shook his head amusedly. "It's just that Draco - my current heir - would be acting as Heir Malfoy. I don't mean to replace him, but I can make you joint heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. That way you can share responsibilities, and not be overwhelmed."

"So ... what do you think?" Remus inquired tentatively.

Harry straightened his back, stood up, and said:"I'll do it." He motioned for the other two to stand as well, and extended his hand to the centre of the room. Incredulous, Sirius and Remus exchanged looks. They were both thinking the exact same thing.  _How the hell did Harry know about this?_

Harry, spotting their reactions, shrugged. "I read a lot." he said casually. "Are we going to do this or not?"

Startled into action by the impatience in his voice, they stepped forward and grasped hands, clamping Harry's in between theirs. The two adults drew their wands.

Tilting their wands so the tips touched in the middle of the handshake, Harry intoned "I, Harry James Potter - heir and birth son of James Charlus Potter, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter and Lily Evans-Potter, his lady - do renounce my name and family and claim for myself a new name and family. I pronounce my name to be Antonius Balendin Aristides, and accept these men, Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and Remus John Lupin, Lord of the Minor House of Lupin - as my family. My name shall be Lupin-Black. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

Shaking, Remus spoke. "I, Remus John Lupin, Lord of the Minor House of Lupin, do accept Antonius Balendin Aristides into my family's arms, both physically and spiritually, to act as my heir until such time as a son of mine is born. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

Last came Sirius, a little subdued. "I, Sirius Orion Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do accept Antonius Balendin Aristides into my family's arms, both physically and spiritually, to act as my joint heir alongside Draco Lucius Malfoy until such time as a son of mine is born. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

Simultaneously, three strands of cord shot out, made not of rope, but of pure magic. One was gold, one silver, and the other white. They wrapped around the clasped hands and intertwined, splitting and entering each of them.

When the ceremony was over, Harry, Remus and Sirius all said one thing. "Bugger me."


	4. Chapter 4

A sliver of light shone through the closed blinds, permeating the dark room with much needed illumination.

Three shapes stirred on a couch, and a pair of eyelids opened blearily, one of them waking up slowly. The smallest shape winced, aware of the bright light overflowing his retinal system, then dislodged himself gently from the sprawling huddle of legs and arms. He made his way over to the blinds, and jerked them open, startling the other two shapes. One jumped up, the other attempting to follow only to fall back down again.

"Rise and shine, kids!" Harry shouted gleefully.

The other two shapes stepped into the light and groaned at the volume and pitch of Harry's voice.

"Unghh ... wha- wha- what's the time?" yawned Sirius.

"And did  _you_  just call  _us_  kids?" Remus asked disbelievingly, blinking bleakly in the sun-rays enveloping the room.

"Yep." Harry stated matter-of-factly. "I may be a child myself, but it would seem I am more mature than both of you put together, Messrs. Moony and Padfoot."

In unison, they gaped at his audacity. Then, Remus smiled wryly. "I guess you're right."

"Damn right I am. Now, who wants a Full English for breakfast?"

"Me, me, me! Please, me!" Sirius jumped up and down, shrieking like a little girl in his excitement. Remus wasn't much different.

Harry regarded them, amused by their blatant antics. "Come on then. To the kitchen we go!" he sped off in the direction of said room, the two Marauders trailing him eagerly.

* * *

After eating a beautifully cooked plate of sausages, eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes and buttered toast, the three of them collapsed blissfully in the living room.

"Hey, Harry! What do you say to having a little walk down old Diagon Alley today?" Sirius ventured.

Harry's eyes lit up at the prospect of visiting his favourite area open to the Wizarding public. "Yes, purlease! It's awesome."

"We can even get you a wand, pup. After all, it's not as if the ministry can detect underage magic here." said Remus in a stage whisper.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "And let's not forget, we're going to need dress robes for that ball. But I wouldn't dare go to Madam Malkin's for that. The only place to get the kind of statement clothes we want is Twilfitt and Tatting's. It's absolutely perfect for smart dress robes."

Harry had only one word to describe that. "Epic!" he said in a hushed tone. "Epic."

* * *

"Pup, what do you know about glamour charms?" asked Sirius an hour later.

Harry huffed. "Don't you think I'm glamourous enough?" he pouted.

"Of course. I'm just asking." Sirius chuckled.

"Why would I need glamour charms when I'm part of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black by blood and magic? Hello, Metamorphic abilities!"

At this Sirius and Remus were truly staggered. "Not to mention the Potter family magics which make us naturally gifted at glamour charms." Harry continued. Their eyes widened comically.

"Come on Padfoot, did you not pay attention to the wording of my oath. I may have renounced the Potter name, but I didn't renounce it's magic, did I?" he asked rhetorically.

Sirius guffawed loudly, as did Remus, both of them astounded by the unearthly cunning of their young charge. Soon, Harry joined them in their mirth.

"So, what should I look like? How about  _this_?" Harry changed before their very eyes, his black hair turning mousy brown and his eyes becoming brown flecked with hints of grey. He grew over a foot and his chest muscles expanded, giving him the appearance of an athlete. His calves thickened as did his biceps. The skin paled and his cheekbones heightened, his jawline sharpening. With that face, he could have been a model.

Unfortunately, his scar was still visible, so he grew his now mousy hair into a shaggy mane like Sirius' and added stubble to his face. It was perfect. "Well then, gentlemen. Shall we go?"

And with those words he led a dumbstruck duo of Sirius and Remus from the house and into the streets of London.


	5. Chapter 5

The streets of London bustled with people, swarming around the trio of wizards. Pushing their way through the crowds, they stumbled towards a grubby-looking pub sign. The Leaky Cauldron.

Squeezing through the swarm of pedestrians, they opened the door of the shabby inn and entered quickly, attempting to escape the crush of wild shoppers.

"Ah, 'ello there young travellers. Oh, it's you two. Well, it's good to see yer, Sirius and Remus." the innkeeper greeted. He had a hunched back and was clothed in tatty garb like a stereotypical shady bar-owner. He had pale, dirty skin and a completely bald head. All in all, he resembled an old, wrinkled and toothless walnut. "Who's yer friend?" His brow furrowed as he looked at Harry.

"I'm Antonius. Antonius Lupin." Harry replied, shaking the barman's hand firmly.

"I'm Tom." the innkeeper introduced himself. "So, Remus ... yer've got a sprog now 'ave you? Or is 'e a distant relative?"

Remus smiled at the old man. "He's my nephew. Brother's son, you know."

"Right. Are yer just passing through or can I get yer something to drink?" Tom was never one to turn down a potential customer.

"Yes, sorry but we've got some rather important business in Diagon Alley." Sirius said, steering Harry towards the gateway to Wizarding London.

"Shame, that." Tom said. "Well, I 'ope you all 'ave a good day. Enjoy yerselves."

"We will, Tom. You never know, we might just stop by on our way back." Sirius teased.

Remus, Sirius and 'Antonius' marched towards the gateway and walked through to the other side.

* * *

The three men stepped through, and found themselves in a wide cobbled street, surrounded by magical shops selling items from broomsticks to wands, from wands to cauldrons, from cauldrons to clothes. Directly ahead of them lay a magnificent building. The architect had certainly been busy designing such a prolific structure. It was made of polished white marble, and resembled an ancient Roman or Greek monument. The burnished bronze doors were flanked by half a dozen goblin in shining stainless steel armour, each of them armed with halberds and serious expressions.

Ascending the steps to the doors, they read the inscription engraved into the second set, silver this time.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn,  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.

"Many wizards hate goblins because of the wars between our races. However, they make excellent bodyguards and bankers." Sirius whispered to Harry. "You'd be mad to try and rob it."

"Just make sure to be respectful." Remus added.

Once inside, they marched up the sparkling marble aisle, straight towards the head desk. Stopping, they bowed low to the goblin at the desk. "We wish to see our account managers please."

The goblin raised one eyebrow in a display of surprise. "And you are ...?" it inquired.

"Lord Sirius Black, Lord Remus Lupin, and Heir Antonius Lupin-Black." they answered.

"Griphook! Take these customers to their account managers immediately." the goblin barked at a young goblin.

Said goblin appeared at their sides barely a moment later. "This way, sirs."

He led them off to an exit, and took them to the Account Managers' Hall. "Who be your account manager, sir?"

"Ah, Lords Black and Lupin!" someone interrupted. "You may go now, Griphook."

"Yes, Account Manager Sharpclaw." Griphook obediently sped off in the direction of the main hallway once more.

A vicious looking goblin stepped forwards and bowed slightly to the three wizards. Each of them returned the gesture.

"Master Sharpclaw, it is good to see you again." Sirius said.

"Indeed it is. Indeed it is. If I may ask ... who is your companion?" asked Sharpclaw, gazing at Harry.

"That would be Antonius, Master Sharpclaw. He is our joint heir." Remus replied quickly. "He is also the main reason we came here today. He wishes to claim his rightful inheritance."

"Of course. Please, follow me." Sharpclaw nodded, appraising Harry shrewdly. He conducted them to his private office, and bade them entrance.

They stood in an dome-shaped room, stained-glass windows peppered around the stone walls. The floor was covered in an exotic soft carpet, and a large mahogany desk stood in the middle of it, in front of a matching desk chair.

Sharpclaw conjured three identical oak chairs and set them down around the desk, indicating for the others to sit.

"So, Heir Lupin-Black. You wish to claim your inheritance." Sharpclaw sat down, twiddling his fingers.

"That is correct, Master Sharpclaw." said Harry impassively. "I know what is involved in the ceremony, and I am a willing participant."

The account manager arched his brow at that, snapped his appendages, and summoned a ceremonial set consisting of a dagger and bowl. Both were pure silver, the dagger once belonging to Emperor Napoleon of France, the bowl of undoubtedly Celtic origins if the runes were of any consequence.

Harry took the dagger and pressed it to his skin, slicing open the palm of his hand with a grimace and letting his blood flow freely into the bowl. Once the bowl had half filled, Sharpclaw stemmed the bleeding of Harry's hand with a bandage and sat in a meditative position. Then, together, they began to chant.

" _Concipo Relictus Hereditas! Concipo Relictus Hereditas! Concipo Relictus Hereditas!_ "

There was a flash of blinding light, and a deep, resonant voice was heard.  ** _"_ _Rise, Antonius Balendin Aristides Lupin-Black, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Heir of the Minor House of Lupin, Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt, Lord of the Revered and Most Ancient House of Peverell, Lord of the Most Ancient House of Ravenclaw, Lord of the Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff, Baron Slytherin - Lord of the Revered and Most Ancient House of Slytherin, Baron Gryffindor - Lord of the Revered and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor, Heir of the Sacred Houses of Emrys and Le Faye! Rise! Rise!_ _Rise!_ _"_**

"For the love of all that's holy!" groaned Sirius in exclamation.


	6. Chapter 6

The occupants of the room were blown over.

"Why can't you be normal for once, Ha- Antonius?" Sirius moaned.

Remus looked flabbergasted at the amount of political power wielded by an eight year old child. "How? Just ... how?" Harry was bewildered, to say the least.

After recovering from his amazement, Sharpclaw stood unsteadily. "The Heirships of Houses Black and Lupin I understand, and to some degree I can believe in his relation to Salazar Slytherin through the House of Black, as well as the House of Gaunt by extension. I can even see the Hufflepuff relation thanks to being Heir to the House of Lupin, direct descendants from Helga's brother." He shook his head ruefully. "But the Lordships of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Peverell, Emrys and Le Faye are complete anomalies. No one in centuries has stepped forwards to claim inheritance of such Houses!"

His eyes narrowed. "Unless ... what did you call Heir Lupin-Black just a few seconds ago, Lord Black? What is his name?"

Seeing Sirius turn his head marginally, it hit him. "You ... you adopted him?"

The former Marauders nodded ashamedly. Sharpclaw grabbed Harry by the cuff of his robes and shook him violently. "What was your name? WHAT WAS YOUR NAME?!" he shouted.

Harry gasped, struggling for air. Sharpclaw's grip loosened slightly, allowing him to breathe. "Harry ... James ... Potter!" Harry bit out.

Sirius and Remus jumped forward in an attempt to stop their account manager losing control and hurting Harry.

The goblin dropped him to the floor and lurched backwards, barely staying on his feet. "They ... they are looking for you. A search has been mounted." he muttered. "Potter ... the Potters are direct descendants of Peverell ... the last remaining descendants of Myrddin and Morgaine Le Faye ... Ravenclaw came from Cadmus, Gryffindor from Ignotus."

Suddenly, Sharpclaw dropped to his knees. "My most sincere apologies, Lord Enchanter. I knew not."

"Huh?" Harry was dumbfounded. "Lord Enchanter?"

"Yes my Lord. You are the Heir of the Sacred House of Emrys. The original lord, Lord Emrys, was named Prince of Enchanters." the goblin continued, staring at the floor. "You are also King of the Isle of Avalon, your highness. It is an honour to see you bless us with your presence."

"Hey ... I don't know most of this stuff. Are you saying I'm the Heir of Merlin and Morgana?" Harry asked, dumbstruck. "The Heir of the Hogwarts Four?"

"You didn't know?" Harry shook his head. "I am so sorry, your highness. Allow me to teach you, please."

Harry nodded, showing consent.

"Myrddin Emrys (or Merlin, as you know him) was an enchanter who lived during the medieval era. Little is known of his past, but he was a member of King Arthur Pendragon's court, and arguably one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Myrddin was also an expert user of charms. His exceptional skill earned him the epithet the Prince of Enchanters. He was one of the first modern wizards, and the founder of Wizarding Britain."

"He was born in the fifth century Anno Domini, and by the seventh, he had several children. In those days, wizards had to forge their own name, and in the eighth century, Ignotus, Antioch and Cadmus Peverell were born. They were the most direct descendants of Emrys in those times. Once they had reached magical maturity, they set out on a journey. Back then, wizards were nomadic."

"Attempting to cross a dangerous river, they conjured a bridge. The river had caused the departure from the mortal world of many souls, and Death lived there. Seeing his strategy outsmarted, he gave each of them a gift. Antioch, the oldest, asked for an invincible wand. So Death crafted one from a nearby tree. The second, Cadmus, asked for something to revive the dead. Death gave him the Resurrection Stone, and he was happy. The youngest, however, was clever. Ignotus, though brave, was as Slytherin as they come. He asked for something that would ensure Death could not follow him, and Death grudgingly gave him his personal invisibility cloak. Together, those three items make the Deathly Hallows, and are the Peverell crest."

"Antioch was a drunk, and boasted of his wand in pubs. One night, a man slit his throat as he slept and stole the wand. Cadmus, grieving for his wife, used the stone. His wife appeared to him in ethereal form. But she was not happy, and told him so. Cadmus, full of regret, tried to commit suicide, but was stopped by his wife. She told him to find another person to love, and to leave her behind. He needed to love, he needed a life. The next night, Cadmus left his house and went on a journey. He took for his wife a local farmer's daughter who happened to know witchcraft. She soon bore him a son, who called himself Ravenclaw. Eventually, old age claimed him."

"Ignotus travelled many leagues undetected by Death, who still searched for him. He married, and had three children. One of them took up the mantle Gryffindor, another - Slytherin, and the last Hufflepuff. After many years of searching for him, Death gave up. Then, Ignotus removed his invisibility cloak and handed it down to his first-born - Gryffindor - and greeted Death as an old friend. They walked off together through the vale of spirits."

Sharpclaw breathed deeply.

"Somewhere amongst the annals of history, the Slytherin family broke into the House of Gaunt as the original line died out. The Gryffindor family split, resulting in the birth of the Houses of Potter and Longbottom. Ravenclaw followed the same line as Slytherin, marrying into the House of Gaunt. The Lordship of Hufflepuff, though is more curious. It passed onto several powerful families which were made extant during the reign of Voldemort. One of those extant families though, formed the House of Lupin, and are now the only true descendants. Remus, here, would be Lord Hufflepuff - that is, if he weren't a werewolf. Unfortunately, wizarding Law stated that no half-breeds can be Head of Revered and Most Ancient Houses like Hufflepuff. That left you, my lord."

To say Harry was surprised would be the understatement of the century.

"But what about the House of Le Faye?" he inquired, his head spinning.

"Why, Morgaine was Myrddin's wife."

"What!?" the three wizards cried in outrage. "She was his worst enemy!"

"Oh no." chuckled the goblin account manager. "That was a story cooked up a couple hundred years ago. I mean, look at it logically. Would you want to believe that the most powerful 'Light' wizard in history was married to the 'Dark Lady of Avalon'? No, siree." Sharpclaw scoffed. " _Honestly_ , wizards!"

He threw up his hands in mock dismay. "What?" he asked innocently.

* * *

"I assume, your highness, that you would like to see a vault transaction history and evaluation?" Sharpclaw said rhetorically.

Harry had a resigned expression. "Please, can you stop with the 'your highness'. Just call me Antonius in public, and Harry in private."

"Of course ... your highness." Sharpclaw grinned.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I would like to see a vault evaluation, thank you. And I would like you to be the account keeper for all my vaults."

"It would be an honour. Now ..."

The goblin clicked his fingers and summoned several scrolls of parchment , leaving a slight lingering smell of smoke.

"Which account do you wish to review first?"

Harry paused.  _Which one did he want to see first?_  "The Emrys family account, please."

"Of course." the account managed said toothily. "All present are allowed to overhear this, aren't they?" he checked.

"Naturally." the eight year old answered.

"Right then.  _Vault Number One: Emrys  
Monetary Contents: 8,963,715 galleons, 4 sickles and 2 knuts  
Properties: Caer Emrys, Carhaix-Plouguer, Camelot, Fort Caerleon, Quimper, Castle Ceredigion, Tintagel Castle, Merlin's Cave, Camelo  
Llanmelin Hill-Fort, Viroconium, Camlet Moat, Camaret, Camelford, Camboglanna, Graig-Llwyn, Roxburgh Castle, Caerwent  
Accumulative Property Value: 43,517,639 galleons, 2 sickles and 4 knuts  
Precious Artifacts: Staff of Myrddin, Dagger of Sacrifice, Excalibur, Round Table  
Accumulative Artifact Value: 25,384,961 galleons, 5 sickles and 7 knuts  
Accumulative Vault Value: 77,866,315 galleons, 11 sickles and 13 knuts  
Literary Works: 3,500,000 - priceless - general  
Portraits: Myrddin Emrys, Morgenau Emrys, Morial Emrys, Morien Emrys, Mordaf Emrys, Gwenddydd Emrys, Nimue  
Hereditary Titles: Prince/Princess of Enchanters, Lord/Lady Emrys, Royal Sorcerer/Sorceress, Lord Enchanter  
Hereditary Abilities: Charms, Arithmancy, Blazetongue_.  
 _Recent Transactions: None._  That concludes your first vault."

" _Vault Number Two: Le Faye  
Monetary Contents: 11,475,263 galleons, 8 sickles and 9 knuts  
Properties: Caer Le Faye, Caerlaverock Castle, Château-du-Loir, Isola Mortoria, Isla de la Muerte  
Accumulative Property Value: 28,549,627 galleons, 1 sickle and 3 knuts  
Precious Artifacts: Staff of Morgaine, Goblet of Life, Morgaine's Drinking Horn, Nom Stones  
Accumulative Artifact Value: 9,532,764 galleons and 10 sickles  
Accumulative Vault Value: 49,557,655 galleons, 2 sickles and 12 knuts  
_ _ _Literary Works: 2,000,000 - priceless - general_  
Portraits: Morgaine Le Faye, Morgause Le Faye, Elaine Le Faye, Igraine Le Faye  
_ _Hereditary Titles: Lord/Lady Le Faye, King/Queen of Avalon, Dark Sorcerer/Sorceress  
_ _Hereditary Abilities: Dark Arts, Healing Magic, Animagus.  
 _Recent Transactions: None.__  That was your second vault."

" _Vault Number Three: Peverell  
Monetary Contents: 685,241 galleons and 1 sickle  
Properties: Hallowed Cottage, Caer Peverell  
Accumulative Property Value: 11,621,478 galleons and 3 knuts  
Precious Artifacts: Cloak of Invisibility, Resurrection Stone, Elder Wand, Peverell Crown  
Accumulative Artifact Value: 8,943,571 galleons 16 sickles and 20 knuts  
Accumulative Vault Value: 21,250,291 galleons and 23 knuts  
Literary Works: 10,953,000 - priceless - general  
Portraits: Ignotus Peverell, Cadmus Peverell, Antioch Peverell  
Hereditary Titles: Earl Peverell, Hallow-Keeper  
Hereditary Abilities: Transfiguration.  
 _Recent Transactions: None.__  Third vault done."

" _Vault Number Four: Slytherin  
Monetary Contents: 89,023,176 galleons, 5 sickles and 4 knuts  
Properties: Hogwarts (1/4), Slytherin Castle, Loch Ness, Caer Sepenis, Salazar's Cove, Chamber of Secrets, Forbidden Forest (1/4)  
Accumulative Property Value: 41,827,961 galleons  
 _Precious Artifacts: 5 Basilisk Eggs (Dormant), Basilisk Nest, Slytherin's Locket, Founder's Chair, Founder's Table (1/4)_  
 _Accumulative Artifact Value: 19,856,347 galleons and 12 sickles_  
 _Accumulative Vault Value: 150,707,485 galleons and 4 knuts_  
 _Literary Works: 7,862,400 - priceless - general_  
 _Portraits: Salazar Slytherin_  
 _Hereditary Titles: Baron Lord Slytherin, Serpent Master, Snake Lord, Hogwarts Four (1/4)_  
 _Hereditary Abilities: Parseltongue, Parselmagic, Legilimency, Potion-making  
__ _Recent Transactions: None._  You're definitely not a pauper, your highness."

Sirius and Remus chuckled slightly. They were still gobsmacked by the amount of money and power Harry held in the wizarding world.

" _Vault Number Five: Gryffindor  
 _Monetary Contents: 88,023,176 galleons, 4 sickles and 5 knuts  
 _Properties: Hogwarts (1/4), Gryffindor Castle, Kástro Liontári, Lion's Den, Godric's Hollow, Forbidden Forest (1/4), Mystery Chamber  
__ _Accumulative Property Value: 38,941,362 galleons, 7 sickles and 5 knuts  
_ _ _Precious Artifacts: 5 Gryffin Cubs (Dormant), Gryffin Nest, Gryffindor's Sword, Founder's Chair, Founder's Table (1/4)  
__ _ _Accumulative Artifact Value: 21,684,937 galleons and 25 knuts  
__ Accumulative Vault Value: 149,649,475 galleons, 12 sickles and 5 knuts  
 _ _Literary Works: 6,428,100 - priceless - general  
__ _ _Portraits: Godric Gryffindor_  
 _Hereditary Titles: Baron Lord Gryffindor, Beast-Master, Lion Lord, Hogwarts Four (1/4)_  
 _Hereditary Abilities: Beast-tongue, Battle Magic, Duelling, Transfiguration  
__ _Recent Transactions:__   _None._  You are a very rich man, Harry."

" _Vault Number Six: Ravenclaw  
 _Monetary Contents: 87,023,176 galleons, 5 sickles and 4 knuts  
 _Properties: Hogwarts (1/4), Ravenclaw Castle, Castelo Corvo, Raven's Perch, Rowena's Sanctum, Forbidden Forest (1/4), Libraries (10)  
 _ _Accumulative Property Value: 48,326,451 galleons, 9 sickles and 7 knuts  
__ _ _ _Precious Artifacts: 5 Augurey Chicks (Dormant), Augurey Nest, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Founder's Chair, Founder's Table (1/4)___  
 _ _ _Accumulative Artifact Value: 16,394,752 galleons and 8 knuts  
___ _Accumulative Vault Value: 151,744,389 galleons, 14 sickles and 19 knuts  
 _ _ _Literary Works: 12,948,500 - priceless - general  
__ _ _Portraits: Rowena Ravenclaw_  
 _Hereditary Titles: Baron Lord Ravenclaw, Bird-Master, Avian Lord, Hogwarts Four (1/4)_  
 _Hereditary Abilities: Bird-tongue, Charms, Magical Architecture, Eidetic Memory  
__ _Recent Transactions:______  None."

" _Vault Number Seven: Hufflepuff  
 _Monetary Contents: 87,023,176 galleons, 5 sickles and 4 knuts  
 _Properties: Hogwarts (1/4), Hufflepuff Castle, Castell Teixó, Badger's Sett, Helga's Garden, Forbidden Forest (1/4), Greenhouses (10)  
 _ _Accumulative Property Value: 38,496,251 galleons, 7 sickles  
__ _ _ _Precious Artifacts: 5 Mujina Kits (Dormant), Mujina Burrow, Hufflepuff's Cup, Founder's Chair, Founder's Table (1/4)___  
 _ _ _Accumulative Artifact Value: 16,394,752 galleons and 8 knuts  
___ _Accumulative Vault Value: 151,744,389 galleons, 14 sickles and 19 knuts  
 _ _ _Literary Works: 7,634,800 - priceless - general  
__ _ _Portraits: Helga Hufflepuff_  
 _Hereditary Titles: Baron Lord Hufflepuff, Mujina-Master, Mujina Lord, Hogwarts Four (1/4)_  
 _Hereditary Abilities: Mujina-tongue, Herbology, Inventing, Art  
__ _Recent Transactions:______  None."

"What are Mujina?" Sirius interjected.

"They are venomous and much more dangerous relatives of badgers." Sharpclaw replied. "Now shut up. This is the Black Vault." he snapped.

" _Vault Number 127: Black  
Monetary Contents: 36,284,197 galleons and 5 knuts  
Properties: Black Manor, Number 12 Grimmauld Place,  _Schwarzwald, Château de Noirieux  
Accumulative Property Value: 22,754,319 galleons, 8 sickles and 6 knuts  
 _Precious Artifacts: Black Dagger, Black Sword, Black Armor  
Accumulative Artifact Value: 6,394,625 galleons, 1 sickle and 8 knuts  
Accumulative Vault Value: 65,433,141 galleons, 9 sickles and 19 knuts  
Literary Works: 265,480 - priceless - general  
Portraits: Orion Black  
Hereditary Titles: Joint-Heir Black (Lord still alive)  
 _ _ _ _ _ _ _Hereditary Abilities: Metamorphmagi, Dark Arts (over-ruled), Business  
________ Recent Transactions: None.__" _ ___  


" _Vault Number 348: Gaunt  
Monetary Contents: 598,647 galleons, 13 sickles and 20 knuts  
Properties: Gaunt Manor, Gaunt Abode  
Accumulative Property Value: 10,845,672 galleons, 9 sickles and 3 knuts  
Precious Artifacts: Slytherin's Ring, Book of Parselmagic  
Accumulative Artifact Value: 4,293,516 galleons, 7 sickles and 8 knuts  
Accumulative Vault Value: 15,737,836 galleons, 13 sickles and 2 knuts  
Literary Works: 985,420 - priceless - general  
Portraits: Marvolo Gaunt  
Hereditary Titles: Heir Gaunt (Lord still alive), Heir Slytherin (over-ruled)  
 _ _ _ _ _ _ _Hereditary Abilities: Parseltongue (over-ruled), Parselmagic (over-ruled), Forgery_  
_______ Recent Transactions: None."

" _Vault Number 1672: Lupin  
Monetary Contents: 121,547 galleons, 3 sickles and 2 knuts  
Properties: Lupin House, Lupin Cottage  
Accumulative Property Value: 10,347,562 galleons, 9 sickles and 8 knuts  
Accumulative Vault Value: 15,737,836 galleons, 13 sickles and 2 knuts  
Literary Works: 367,510 - priceless - general  
Hereditary Titles: Heir Lupin (Lord still alive)  
 _ _ _ _ _ _ _Hereditary Abilities: Lycanthropy, Heightened Senses_  
_______ Recent Transactions: None."

"You are one seriously rich snob, Harry. You really are." Sirius said cheekily.


	7. Chapter 7

"Your highness," Sharpclaw took a deep breath. "You are Head of seven Houses and Heir to three. In total, you have the right to twenty-five separate titles. You own seventy-three properties around the world, from Britain to France and Colombia. You possess fifty of the most renowned artifacts in wizarding history, as well as nineteen of the most famous portraits known to wizardkind. You are blessed with twenty-six gifted abilities, each of which is detailed in at least one of you 52,945,210 literary works. So, in wizarding money, your highness King Antonius of Avalon, Prince of Enchanters, Lord Enchanter, Baron Lord Hogwarts, Lord Emrys, Royal Sorcerer, Lord Le Faye, Dark Sorcerer, Earl Peverell, Hallow-Keeper, Heir Lupin-Black-Gaunt, you are worth a grand sum of 849,428,816 galleons, 14 sickles and 2 knuts."

Remus whistled lowly. "But there is more. To fully claim this inheritance, it is required that you take the Ring of each House." With those words, the account manager swept his arm, palm upwards, into which a large, ornately carved Celtic Knotted Dragon Box landed. Sharpclaw lifted the lid slowly. "My liege, I present thee with the Ring of the Sacred House of Emrys. Do you claim it?"

"I do."

Sharpclaw drew a platinum banded ring from the box, with decidedly Gaelic runes engraved into it. There was a small stone planted in the centre, blazing like fire, embedded with the Mark of Merlin. It was beautiful. As it slid onto his finger, it flashed bright gold, accepting him as Head of House.

"I present thee with the Ring of the Sacred House of Le Faye, to merge with that of Emrys. Do you claim it?"

"I do."

Another nearly identical ring was removed, a dark purple flame-like stone upon which a Druidic symbol stood. It joined the Ring of Emrys, and formed one ring.

"I present thee with the Rings of the Revered and Most Ancient House of Slytherin, Peverell and Gryffindor, to merge with those who passed before. Do you claim them?"

"I do." Harry repeated.

Two beautiful rings - one silver with an emerald cast into it, the other gold with a ruby - combined with the Ring of Emrys-Le Faye, followed by a spectacular gold ring, in which the Resurrection Stone lay.

"I present thee with the Rings of the Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, to merge with those who passed before. Do you claim them?"

"I do."

Two more rings - this time bronze and sapphire, black tungsten and golden - melded into the Ring of Emrys-Le Faye-Peverell-Slytherin-Gryffindor. It would be huge by the end of the pompous ceremony.

"I present thee with the Rings of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Black and Gaunt, to merge with those who passed before. Do you claim them?"

"I do." Harry said, a little bored. It was very repetitive.

An additional pair of rings, almost identical - silver and black star diopside for the House of Black, silver and onyx for the House of Gaunt - converged with the others.

"Finally, I present thee with the Ring of the Minor House of Lupin, to merge with those who passed before. Do you claim them?"

"I do."

A small, shimmering moonstone inlaid into a black titanium ring unified with the others and concluded the ritual. In the end, the rings (or ring, singular) took up the majority of Harry's lower ring finger.

"That is some serious bling you've got there, Harry." Sirius joked.

Remus agreed. "You're not kidding."

* * *

Leaving the goblin bank after making a withdrawal of 10,000 galleons for shopping purposes, Harry, Sirius and Remus walked towards Twilfitt and Tatting's, an upmarket clothing store. Just before entering, Harry morphed back into his natural height, only youthening his already transfigured face. As Sharpclaw said, there was a search for him.

Sirius held open the door and was greeted by a joyful house elf. "Please, be coming this way, sirs!" it squeaked.

Following behind it, they were led to the measuring room and a simpering, buck toothed witch. "H-hello, how may I be of service, sirs?"

Smiling, Sirius turned on the charm, bent down on one knee and brought the woman's hand to brush gently against his lips. "Madam Twilfitt, each of us require a full wardrobe of your finest work. You see, we shall be attending the Ministry Ball next week, and are in dire need of dress robes. We shall also need duelling robes and casual robes, if at all possible, Madam."

The woman giggled girlishly. "Of course, sir."

She immediately set about measuring Sirius, blushing heavily when it came to the inner leg measurements. "W-what style would you like, sir?"

Sirius thought for a second. "If you don't mind, I'll have the jet black waistcoat and jacket with the swirling fire pattern accompanied by black trousers and a pale blue acromantula silk shirt. Not forgetting the black bow tie." he responded.

"And your other robes?"

"Six pairs of plain, unadorned duelling robes - one red, one blue, one brown, and three gold - and ... twenty pairs of plain casual robes: five brown, five bottle green, five black, and five Oxford blue, please."

She jotted down the order.

"Yes sir. Which of you would like to go next?" she asked, pointing at Harry and Remus.

Remus stepped forwards. "That would be me, Madam."

"Good." she exclaimed, setting about measuring him. "And will you be having the same, sir, or different?"

"I'll be having the maroon and silver meandering waistcoat with a Tuscan red jacket and black trousers, as well as a pearl coloured acromantula silk shirt. For the duelling and casual robes, I'll have the same as Lord Black, here." he said, gesturing at Sirius.

Again, she scribbled the order furiously on a piece of scrap parchment.

"No problem, sir."

"So, what will you be having, young sir?" she inquired of Harry. Harry moved towards her confidently.

"If it's convenient with you, Madam, I would like a set consisting of Gainsboro grey waistcoat, jacket, tie and trousers, with a pure white acromantula silk shirt. As for duelling robes ... I'll have three pairs laurel green and the other three Byzantium purple. I'd also like ten pairs of black and grey casual robes respectively, Madam." he finished, bowing low to the ground.

Remus rolled his eyes - he was the only one who had not shown such courtesy to Madam Twilfitt, after all, her voice grated.

The woman bustled off and returned a couple of minutes later with three full bags. "We will also be requiring footwear, Madam Twilfitt. Do you have any dragon hide boots left?"

"Naturally, Lord Black. Do you have any particular preferences?"

Sirius looked at the other two. "Well, I would like two pairs, one of Chinese Fireball, the other of Welsh Green."

Remus answered next. "One Norwegian Ridgeback and ... one Peruvian Vipertooth please."

Last was Harry. "One pair of Hebridean hide boots and one pair of Antipodean Opaleye." he mumbled, remembering the Ukrainian Ironbelly model. It was the only two he ever properly had, and he spent hours most days sketching it. It was so cruel. "Wait - how were the hides given?" Harry asked uneasily.

"Oh, freely, of course!" the woman looked scandalised. "We, unlike  _some_ , use only those shed naturally or willingly."

"In that case, I'll have them."

The woman nodded, and marched off returning moments later with the boots, which she placed carefully alongside the rest of the clothes.

"That will be a total of 964 galleons, 3 sickles and 28 knuts, please. However, for such exalted customers, I shall give you a twenty percent discount. Whose account should I charge it to?"

"Charge it to the Black family vault if you will, Madam Twilfitt." said Sirius, kissing her gently on the cheek as they left the shop.

She nodded shyly.

"Yuck ... I really hate her perfume." Sirius muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

Once out of the shop, they shrunk the bags and their contents, shoving them into their pockets. Harry re-morphed, assuming his earlier features.

"To Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment we go!" Remus stood in a mock heroic position and ran up to said shop's door, wrenching it open.

Harry knew little about it, except that his father bought his more job-related items from here. Dragon hide vests, trousers, helmets, as well as multi-compartment trunks were all sold here.

Looking curiously around the shop, he saw nothing particularly interesting. Then, he noticed the other two beckoning him over. They were standing in a little doorway to the back of the shop, talking with a wizened old man. He had a scraggly beard and scruffy white hair reaching his shoulders. He also wore a monocle and kept polishing it constantly.

"Mr. Wiseacre has allowed us to view his most expensive collection, round the back of the store." started Sirius. "Am I right in assuming you'd like to?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

Sirius sighed, and stepped onto the threshold on the other side of the doorway. It was...

"Wow!" Harry blurted out.

Several objects immediately around him caught his eye, including a scabbard belonging to Godric Gryffindor.

Assessing it, he spoke to Sirius as Remus browsed. "I'm surprised James didn't pick that up when he came here." he pointed it out.

Sirius frowned. "So am I. Then again, I heard from old Wisey that he hasn't been in the back for many years. At least not since the last time the Marauders all went in together."

"Can I get it? After all, it's a family heirloom." Harry pleaded.

Sirius had never come under the influence of puppy eyes before, even with his Animagus form, and soon crumbled. "Of course, pup. Go ahead."

Harry pumped his fist in the air out of satisfaction, and heard Remus calling from the other side of the room. "Guy's? You might want to have a look at this! Especially H- Antonius."

The two of them rushed to the werewolf's position. He was staring at a trunk. It was huge, with sixteen locks indicating at least that many compartments. It was oaken on the outside, except on the top compartment, which was covered in leather. Leather imprinted with the Peverell family crest.

Instantly, their jaws dropped, coming exceedingly close to caressing the creaking, dusty floorboards below their feet.

"Um ... Mister Wiseacre?!"

* * *

"Yes, what is it?" He was impatient fellow that was certain.

"There are two items which we would like to purchase from you today."

His eyes glinted greedily. "And which items would those be?"

"The trunk bearing the Peverell coat of arms and the scabbard with Godric Gryffindor's crest on it."

Wiseacre's eyes widened dramatically. "O-oh no, sirs. That can only be purchased by the de- descendants of those lines. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand why." Harry raised his finger and displayed his rings.

The man swayed on his feet and was barely caught before hitting the ground.

Sirius and Remus stared at him.

Harry put up his hands in a sign of surrender. "What? It's not as if it was my middle finger."

* * *

They left the shop not long after, and Sirius spotted a familiar place.

"Fortescue's! Florean Fortescue's! Look, look, look - its ice cream!" Sirius whined. "I wanna go."

"Ice cream? Moony, please, please, please, please can we get some - please?" Harry joined in, his face lighting up.

But Remus had already gone, and they had to run to catch up with him. When they did, he was sitting with three triple-scoop double-chocolate chip ice cream cones - on the house, courtesy of his longstanding friendship with the owner, Florean Fortescue, a wizard of much renown for his cold confection.

"Why is it that werewolves love chocolate so much?" Harry half-groaned bemusedly. "Not that I'm complaining ..." he reiterated, spotting the expression of Remus' face and the growling from Padfoot. "Err ... I ... love ... chocolate?" Harry asked tentatively before lapping up his ice cream in record time.

At least, it would have been record time if Moony, the chocolate loving lycanthrope, hadn't been there.


	9. Chapter 9

Later on that very day, (after the impromptu distraction caused by several brain-freezes experienced as a result of their numerous ice creams) the trio walked towards possibly the most dangerous shop in existence - Gambol and Japes Joke Shop!

'Why is it so dangerous?' you might ask. Well, once you enter, you never want to leave, especially if you're an ex-Marauder. Harry, being the 'sensible' one of the group, ended up dragging them kicking and screaming from their dreams. Unbeknownst to them or the owners, Harry had left with bulging pockets full of curios and prank materials.

He truly was a Marauder's son, even if that Marauder had now shown his true colours.

* * *

Their last stop was the most important one. They meandered cautiously into Knockturn Alley, laden with valuable goods ripe for the picking of thieves. However, they made their way to their destination relatively safely, though mentally scarred for life by what appeared to be an eighty year old, wrinkled hag attempting to accost them in the middle of the street (what was worse was that she exposed herself first, like a flasher).

A rotting, woodlouse ridden sign swung precariously above them. It was written in barely legible, decaying, Olde Worlde script. It read 'Zauberstabmacher'. Zauberstabmacher was the German word for wand maker. Simple, but to the point. The shop had been run since 1438, and was the only place in Magical Britain where custom wands could be manufactured legally.

The wooden door was wretched and decrepit, but it worked like any other, as was demonstrated by Sirius.

The three walked carefully into the building, then stopped suddenly. There was a wand at Sirius' throat. "What have we here? Burglars? Thieves? Arsonists? Well you'll never get past me. Never!" a raspy voice echoed from out of the shadows.

Harry's face was alight with fear, and he was frozen, immobile as a statue. So was Remus.

"Hello, Æsc. Still trying to terrorise potential customers, are you?" Sirius said dryly. "I've told you before - it's not the best way to gain business."

"Is that you, Black? Damn my eyesight!" the voice questioned.

"Or, in your case, lack thereof." Sirius threw back wittily.

"Yep, same old Black." grumbled the voice. The wand disappeared. A man stepped into the light, stowing it into his coat. At least, it appeared to be a man. Long, brown hair lay on either side of a thin face. The skin was pale and crusting, the right eye a milky white, standing out in stark contrast to the other, startling blue iris, and the nose beak-like, protruding fully from the rest of the visage. In fact, it obscured a great portion. Ragged robes could be seen hugging an almost skeletal figure closely, right down to the gnarled feet which were wrapped in a great deal of bandages. "Who are your friends? You should know me well enough to remember how suspicious I am of new people."

"This," Sirius announced, introducing the others, who had remarkably regained their ability to move. "Is Antonius, and the other one with him you may recognise the name of - Remus Lupin."

"Ah, the Lupin boy. Good lad, despite his ... furry little problem. And who's this 'Antonius'?" Æsc queried.

"He's our joint heir." replied Remus, recovering from his shakiness. "He needs a wand."

"Oh really ... you don't say!"

* * *

Around the back was a room stacked to the roof with boxes and ingredients for wands. It was a veritable mess, but it was a good one nonetheless.

Æsc, the wand maker, placed several woods in front of Harry. Not the cores, just the wand woods.

Before him was an assorted range of woods. He passed his hand over each and every one of them, then signified to Æsc that he had chosen.

"Those woods seem to like me a little more than the others." he said shyly, pointing at a sliver of rowan, blackthorn, hawthorn, elder, and hazel.

The wand maker looked perturbed. "What is it?" Harry asked him anxiously.

The old man muttered gruffly. "This is the largest amount of wand woods chosen by a single wizard in my entire life, boy - and that has lasted more than a couple of centuries."

A little flustered, Æsc gathered some wand cores and set them before Harry.

Again, Harry passed his hand palm-first over them all, but this time, when he withdrew, he looked rather discomposed. "N- none of them c- call out to me." he stuttered.

Now Æsc really was unnerved. The only other cores he had were ...

He scuttled off and pulled out a few of his rarest wand cores, secreted in a corner.

When he returned, he presented them to Harry.

Staring at a fire-like substance, he pointed at it. "I can feel that one straight away. It seems ... sad."

The wand-maker was goggle-eyed at his next choice. "And that one." Harry said, seizing an off-white powder.

In fact, Harry felt attracted to all of them, and picked out a couple more. A red plume was swiftly grabbed, as was a piece of black substance feeling like cloth.

The last, was a thing resembling an eye, with a very large hazel iris and a tiny pupil.

Æsc gulped. This would be a challenge.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Five woods and five cores. All of them symbols of power.

Schooling his dazed expression into an impassive mask, he began explaining what would happen. "You see, laddy, you have a rather unique set of wand ingredients here, which represent many different things. The amount of different types you have make it impossible for me to make you only one wand. The characteristics of the cores would just counter each other and be rendered useless. But the woods are different."

"You chose elder wood, one of the most unusual wand woods available - it represents judgment, transformation, death and regeneration, and fate. It's perfect for Healing magic and the banishment of evil. Similarly, you chose hawthorn and blackthorn. Hawthorn is used for defensive magic, often relying on love or marriage. Blackthorn indicates strong action of fate or outside influences that must be obeyed."

"You also picked hazel and rowan. Hazel represents your thirst for knowledge and power. In Celtic tradition, it shows wisdom. Rowan berries have a tiny pentagram on them. The pentagram is the ancient symbol of protection, so the Rowan tree indicates protection and control of the senses from enchantment and beguiling."

"On the other hand are your cores. Your first choice was frozen phoenix fire. Phoenixes are the epitome of death and rebirth, reacting perfectly with the elder wood. Then, you selected a very odd one. Powdered manticore claw. The manticore's skin is magic-repellent, which would act well with your protective and defensive wand woods. They are also incredibly brave as a result of that."

"Contrasting massively, you grabbed a red plume. That was the plume of the last known live Basilisk. I plucked it myself after it's death. It symbolises majesty, royalty and death. The basilisk, after all, can kill with a single look. The next one was alike to this. It was a lethifold heartstring. Yes, the lethifold seems to have no soul. But you don't need a soul to survive. You need a heart. That exemplifies ruthlessness and the cessation of life. Very dangerous things."

"But the last was by far the most interesting. It goes perfectly with the hazel wood. Why? It's the eye of a sphinx. It's even the same colour as the wood. Sphinxes are capable of human speech, and are known for their love of puzzles, riddles, and enigmas. This shows sagacity and intelligence. However, if you answer a sphinx's riddle incorrectly, they will devour you. That denotes ferocity."

"All in all, young Antonius, you have yourself at least two of the most powerful and distinctive wands in wizarding history. In fact, I'm tempted to make you two wands, and offer another solution for the remaining ingredients. A staff. The kind of staff the Celtic druids of ancient ages once used for their own magic."

Remus shook his head. "You never were one to be normal, were you Antonius?" he wheezed without humour.

* * *

It turned out the wand maker needed even more stuff to craft the wands and the staff. To fully complete them, he needed to soak them in a magical liquid. And of course, the selection of those liquids fell once more to Harry.

Small jars sat on a table before him. He walked past each of them, hovering his hand above them. A thick, dark filled jar was immediately opted for, as was a more orange-coloured one. A slightly green tinged, yet oddly clear liquid was nominated finally.

"Well, well, well."

"What is it?" Sirius was heard, his voice sounding anxious.

"Your marinading ingredients follow the same pattern as your other ingredients, lad." He signalled them. "The dark red one, the one that looks almost black? That's Re'em blood. It strengthens anything it comes in contact with, so it's perfect for casting powerful spells."

"The orange one is also blood; Salamander blood. It has good healing and rejuvenating properties. That matches your elder and phoenix fire wand. The transparent, opaque, greenish one is snake venom. Venom of the Nidhogg, the serpent mentioned in Norse mythology for its repeated attempt to destroy Yggdrasil, the World Tree. The Nidhogg was clever and a trickster, and would work well in tandem with your hazel and sphinx eye."

"If I can, I will make you one wand out of elder and blackthorn (for the handle), with a phoenix fire and basilisk plume core, drenched in the blood of a Salamander." he looked thoughtful for a second. "11 1/4 inches in length, slightly pliable, engraved with the runes of Berkano and Laguz, used for healing and regeneration.

"12 3/4 inches in length, rowan and hawthorn (again, for the handle), with a powdered manticore claw and lethifold heartstring core, soaked in Re'em blood. Rigid. The runes will be Eihwaz and Algiz, the runes of protection."

"As for the staff - shoulder height, living hazel implanted with a sphinx eye and permeated with partially neutralised Nidhogg venom, inscribed with the runes Ansuz and Kenaz. They are for knowledge and wisdom."

"Not that you should need any additional help with  _that_." Sirius whispered to Harry. Harry sniggered softly.

"Now, if you're wondering why I said partially neutralised venom, that would be so the boy won't come close to killing himself every time he touches the bloody staff. It still has the knowledge invoked by the snake, just less dangerous amount of lethal venom."

"They should be ready in a couple of days, holsters and all. I assume you'd like holsters and a cane-tube for your wands and staff?"

"Cane-tube?" Harry asked of Remus.

"Yeah, like a scabbard, just for staffs. And they have a carving of the core and the origin of the completing liquid. So yours would have a sphinx eye and the Nidhogg."

"Oh. Okay, I get it now."

"Yes please, Æsc." Sirius said loudly.

"Certainly. What materials? For your holsters I'd recommend basilisk scales and for the staff Jadeite for the main compartment and Alexandrite for the totem."

"Whatever you think's best, Æsc. Whatever you think's best."

"It'll cost you four thousand galleons, you know that don't you?" Æsc butted in abruptly.

Harry looked affronted, whereas the two adults just shrugged. "Money is no object for us."

"In that instance, they'll be ready for you in three days. Look forward to seeing you again."

"Or as the case may be,  _not see_." Sirius bantered.

Æsc growled and they bid a hasty retreat, disapparating as they left the premises.


	11. Chapter 11

At home, Sirius showed Harry round the garden.

There were chrysanthemums and roses surrounded them, serenaded by tulips and dandelions. It was beautiful. There were huge clumps of sunflowers and buttercups with the odd verbascum. Maltese-crosses, foxgloves, primroses, poppies, daffodils, cowslips, heather, oxlips, honeysuckles, orchids, harebells, fuchsias, gorse, rosemary, thistles, clovers, and irises all infused the air with their unique scents.

Towards the corner of the property, there was a shed. A shed with Quidditch equipment. And a Quidditch pitch, complete with goal-hoops and stands. The scoreboard stood in front of the announcer's box, like a traditional stadium. It was great.

"Hey, pup. You wanna play?" Sirius motioned towards the shed and the pitch.

"Are you mad?" Sirius' face fell a little. "Of course I do!"

He sighed in relief. He couldn't imagine a son of Prongs not wanting to fly. Harry seized a pair of brooms and handed one to Sirius.

"Are you sure you don't want this one? It's the better of the two." Sirius was a little confused.

Harry just smirked and took off, standing on the tail-top and shooting into the air.  _Apparently not_ , Sirius thought to himself. He kicked off swiftly with a quaffle in the crook of his arm.

Arriving at Harry's altitude, he threw it hard at him. Harry turned away from him and kicked it with his heel in return. Sirius fumbled it marginally, but recovered quickly, sending the ball spinning towards Harry.  _This'll catch him out for sure_.

To his surprise, Harry swerved at kneed the quaffle skywards, punching it back with practised ease.  _The kid's got skills, nothing catches him off-guard_.

Harry saw Padfoot motioning him over, and joined him. "How about we get the warm-up over with and start a one-on-one match? Sound fair?"

"More than."

The two flyers turned towards their respective goal ends, and Remus entered the announcer's box. "And today, ladies and gentlemen, we have what promises to be one heck of a match! Is this a match of honour or of friendship - who knows?" he spoke into the microphone. "On my right I give you, Lord Sirius Orion Black, and on the left ...  _Harrrryyyyyy Lupin-Black_!"

Their heads twisted around to his position, during which time he summoned the quaffle from Sirius then banished it to the centre of the pitch. "And let the match begin!"

They sped off in the direction of the strangely shaped ball, Harry being slightly slower. "And Sirius Black in possession, tries to get past Lupin-Black who intercept his passage of flight and grabs the quaffle, flying straight at the hoops. He shoots, he scores!"

It continued in a similar fashion for just over an hour, by which time Sirius had lost 160-30. And to make it even more embarrassing, only one of those goals was scored through skill.

Naturally, he was a little indignant. "Where on  _earth_  did you learn to fly like that?" he asked in awe. "I played as Chaser at Hogwarts for three years and I've never been outmatched like that before! Admittedly, I had the best broom available in those days, but even on level pegging I was usually better, but that's why I changed to being a Beater. There was much more of a challenge to it, and it gave me a good excuse to beat up the Slytherins. I may be a little out of practice, but strewth!"

Harry wore a satisfied expression on his face. "I've been sneaking out at night since I was four, flying." he grinned. "My parents never realised. It was great. You know the book you sent Indi and me for Christmas - the one that I never got to see?"

The marauders nodded. Of course they did. "Well, it's been ' _missing_ ' for a couple of years thanks to my nimble fingers."

They burst into laughter. "You're a sneaky little bugger, aren't you cub?" Remus struggled to get out due the fact his jaw was aching from laughing so much.

Harry raised his head proudly. "Guilty as charged, your honour."

That just set them off all the harder.

* * *

"Do you know how to dance, kid?"

Harry looked aghast. He had had lessons before his fourth birthday, but he had forgotten them completely. He could sway to music, just not dance. He shook his head.

"Well, we'll just have to remedy that, won't we Moony?" Sirius turned to his werewolf friend.

"Oh yes. We can't have you going to the ball without knowing how to dance, now can we?" Remus teased.

The eight year old grimaced slightly, resigned to his fate. "I suppose not." he mumbled.

"Now's a good a time as any! Stand up and face me." Padfoot shouted enthusiastically, leaping to his feet.

He conjured a megaphone. Turning it on, he made it play the waltz. "This is a pretty easy dance, as it only has three steps. It is simple yet elegant, if performed correctly. Imagine there is a box on the floor. You are dancing in that box. Now, hold my hand." Sirius stood in a classical ballroom dance pose, his right arm extended, slightly bent at the knees and elbows. Awkwardly, Harry did as he was told.

"Place your other hand around his back and onto his shoulder blade. Gently, but not too gently. You don't want it to slip off." Remus interjected, standing up and adjusting his pose slightly. "Your elbow should be slightly bent in your partner's direction, at approximately shoulder height. Now I know that's hard for you right now, so can you just morph yourself about a foot and a half taller? Better. Stand straight with your knees loose."

"Now, stand with your feet together. You will be leading as you are a man. Sirius is not." the aforementioned mutt scowled and put on a fake hurt expression. "Oh get over yourself, you great wuss. Step forward with your left foot, then step diagonally with your right foot. This should place your feet roughly a shoulder's-width apart. Bring them together. No, left to right. Not the other way round. Step back with your right foot, and diagonally with your left. They should be a shoulder's-width apart again. Step together again and repeat. Good."

Remus noticed something wrong. "Don't look at the floor, Harry. It should be instinctive. Always look into your partner's eyes. Much better. You're still glancing occasionally down, but that's to be expected."

"Once you've familiarised yourself enough with that, we can move add some flourishes. Okay? Good."

They continued for a couple of hours, stopping only for a drink and dinner, until Harry was so well drilled that he could do it with his entire head bandaged. He didn't need to listen to the music anymore, he could  _feel_  it.

Harry yawned once he'd reverted back to his normal body size.

"Off to bed with you, young man. Go on! You need to rest after today." Remus said, shooing him up the stairs to his room. "I know I do." he added as an afterthought.

"See you in the morning, kiddo!" they heard Sirius shout from the kitchen.

"G'night!" Harry answered noisily.

Remus tucked him in gently, affection written all over his wearied face. "Sleep well, kid. Sweet dreams."

"Mmm. See you tomorrow, Uncle Remus." Harry said softly before drifting gently into the blissful land of sleep. He had another busy day ahead of him tomorrow. _What joy!_


	12. Chapter 12

Sirius and Remus spent the next morning teaching their young charge the finer points of ballroom dancing, from the waltz to the tango to the cha-cha. Harry was well drilled and would definitely be able to attract the female population at the Ministry Ball later that week.

Today was a big day for Harry. He would be going to see his first Quidditch match between the Falmouth Falcons and the Montrose Magpies. Ever since he had read _Quidditch through the Ages_  he had wanted to play for the Magpies. They were the most successful squad in British history, but that was not why he supported them. They were fast, using daring chaser tactics to bewilder their opponent's defensive formations. Their keeper was a reliable, sturdy player with little arrogance, unlike most, who attempted to showboat at times.

The Falmouth Falcons were well known for their physical, aggressive style and were favoured by most of the pureblood elite. Their beaters were the most violent in all of Europe, often aiming their bats instead of the bludgers at passing flyers. Falcons' chasers preferred to barge through defenses leaving a trail of injured players behind them, and resorted to any means possible to score.

" _Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to this British and Irish Quidditch League match between the Falmouth Falcons and the Montrose Magpies. The Falcons are at home in front of a huge crowd, all of whom are offering immense support for their local team. And here they come onto the pitch: Keeper Sendelina de la Felino, Beater Troy "Tank" Duvall, Beater Ivan Volkov, Chaser Debbie Muntz, Chaser Ryotaro Tanaka, Chaser Igor Brand, aaaaaand ... their Captain and Seeker Inigo Fuente Marrero! A round of applause please!_ "

" _And now for the away side. All the way from the hills of Scotland, the Montrose Magpies! Here they come now: Keeper Denison Frisby, Beater Asgard Pettersson, Beater Alain Lacroix, Chaser Alasdair Maddock, Chaser and Captain Josephine Marat, Chaser Ladislaw Zamojski, aaaaaand ... their star Seeker Lennox Campbell!_ "

" _This should be a cracker of a match. The referee for today, Samuel Tgeda from Nigeria is about to get the game underway. And they're off!_ "

The speed of the match was blistering, especially from the Magpies. " _Maddock - Zamojski - Marat - back to Zamojski who keeps the Quaffle and somersaults over Muntz of the Falcons - passes to Maddock, who ... scores! 10-0 to the Magpies. They're off again, the Falcons in possession. Tanaka passes to Brand, who smacks through Marat and shoots ... saved by the Keeper._ "

Three quarters of an hour later the Magpies were 230-40 up and the Falcons were tiring, unable to keep up with the pace from the Montrose chasers. The Falcons called a quick timeout and regrouped.

" _We're off once more here in Falmouth, the home side being thoroughly out-played by their opposition today, the Montrose Magpies. Oh! What's this? I think Campbell's seen the snitch! He's speeding after it, and Marrero is in hot pursuit._ "

The black blur that was Lennox Campbell wrapped his hand around the winged golden ball, and fist-pumped the air. Then, there was a huge clunk, as he toppled straight off his broom and plummeted downwards.

The Falcons beaters had chosen to each whack a mighty bludger at the seeker, who was caught unawares. Luckily, his keeper was nearby, and managed to catch him, bringing him to a safe landing on the ground.

Harry was on his feet, outraged, as were the majority of the fans in the crowd - even the Falcons' fan club. "Come on ref! Ban them! Ban them, ban them, ban them!" a kid was heard shouting.

The chant was echoed around the stadium, and soon the entire away stand was on it's feet, hurling abuse at the Falcons.

The shouting child who began the frenzy was raised on his father's shoulders to gain a better view of the situation and Harry caught a look at his face.

He was incredulous. "Cedric?!"

* * *

His friend, Cedric Diggory. One of his only friends. A Quidditch fanatic much the same as Harry, a supporter of the Magpies, and a class seeker.

"Cedric!" Harry repeated, pushing through the crowds to get to him, moving away from Sirius and Remus.

Cedric turned to face him, his hair blowing in the slight breeze, a frown on his face.

He saw Cedric whisper something to his dad and climb down, making his way slowly towards Harry.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked somewhat brusquely.

"Ced! What's wrong?" Harry had forgotten he was morphed into eight-year old Antonius.

Cedric's eyes hardened, glaring at Harry. "Only one person can call me that, and he's missing. Don't you dare call me that." he spat angrily.

"But- but Cedric! It's me!" Harry was flummoxed and slightly scared by how his friend was speaking to him. "Can't you see it's ... oh, I've still got the glamour on!" Harry realised suddenly. If only he could change back, and prove he was Harry.

He began to walk away shaking his head, leaving Harry behind him. "Wait! Cedric! I'll prove it."

Cedric twisted his head around, fixing Harry with a piercing stare. "How?" he said viciously. "How can you possibly prove to me that you are who you say you are? Eh? How?"

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Harry muttered.

"What?" Cedric was sure he had misheard.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

Cedric was overwhelmed. "Harry?"

"It's me, Ced. It's me." he uttered softly, running at him and tackling him playfully. Cedric pulled him to his chest, hugging him tightly.

"Where the hell have you been, Harry? They've been looking for you everywhere!" he cried, his voice muffled by Harry's hair. "I've been looking for you." he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Ced. It's a long story."

"I've got time. Lots of it." he was desperate to know what had happened.

"Come with me. Bring your dad if you want. But be secretive. My name is Antonius, okay?"

Cedric nodded confusedly.

"Go. Meet me outside the secret entrance to the West Stand of the stadium in an hour." With those words, Harry stalked off towards his new parents, Remus and Sirius.

When he reached them, he explained the situation, and asked them to go with him. Naturally, they said yes, but they couldn't stop themselves from berating Harry about it. He was supposed to tell no-one. He just couldn't help it, and actually, they were glad. He'd have one his best friends back again and he'd be happy.

That was really all that mattered to them right then. To see him happy.


	13. Chapter 13

At the entrance, Harry stood patiently waiting for Cedric to arrive with his dad, Sirius and Remus beside him. They kept up the pretenses until Cedric arrived.

Out of the darkness appeared two figures, one tall, one short. Cedric and his dad.

Harry advanced silently and raised his hand, palm forward. "Cedric? Do you swear?"

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." came the reply.

Sirius raised his brows at the password.  _How ironic_.

"So what the hell have you been doing? And who's with you?"

"My parents." Harry answered succinctly.

"You mean Lily and James have been with you all this time? Sweet Merlin!" Amos Diggory, Cedric's father, snarled.

"No. They're not my parents. You remember my Uncles, Cedric?"

Sirius and Remus stepped into the light. "What - how?" unsurprisingly, both Cedric and Amos became a little incoherent.

"I guess I'd better start at the beginning."

"That's usually a good place to start." Sirius quipped.

Rolling his eyes, Harry took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. "It all started when my 'home' was attacked by the Dark Lord." at this he gave a meaningful look at Cedric, who cottoned on immediately. He remembered Harry telling him about his family. "My brother was named the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Potters started ignoring me. I cooked the food, I acted as politely as possible, I even looked after Indi when Lily and James were away or out. I was considered nothing more than a house-elf. Admittedly there were advantages to being ignored. I was mostly invisible to them, so I made good use of that. The Potter library is quite extensive." Cedric chuckled. "And there was always the broomstick if I got bored with reading."

"As if!" scoffed Ced.

"Says Mr. Bookworm." Harry threw back. Cedric had once read books for a consecutive seventeen hours straight, and would have continued if Rodger hadn't intervened with a quaffle.

"Touché, Harry. Touché."

"Back to the story. They neglected me for ages, and as you may recall, I had very few friends. You, Roger and Neville were the only ones. After a while, I had enough. I'd been communicating via two-way mirror with Sirius and Remus for months, and they were appalled. Indi was taken to St. Mungo's for a tiny cut on his finger, and I contacted them. Together, we planned my escape. A month later, they snuck into the house with a pair of brooms. I was waiting for them, by trunk packed. We flew out of my bedroom window with me riding tandem on Sirius' broom. Since then, we've been at Sirius' house in London."

Sirius nodded.

"We've been to Diagon Alley without anyone noticing within the last few days." he added.

"How?" Amos asked disbelievingly.

"Harry ..." sighed Remus.

He morphed into a six foot tall, man mountain, then into a three-foot goblin, and back to normal again.

"You're - you're a metamorphmagus!" Cedric said almost reverentially.

"Damn right! But there's more."

"More? How can there be more?"

"Sirius and Remus adopted me magically. My name is now Antonius Lupin-Black."

"Amos, are you going to the Ministry Ball this week?" Sirius butted in.

"Yes, why?" Amos was curious.

"Good. You'll find out the rest there. Come on pup!"

"See ya Ced!" Harry managed to shout just before disapparating alongside his guardians.

* * *

Harry and Cedric kept in correspondence.

_Dear Cedric,_

_How are you? What's it like in Ottery St. Catchpole? Life's fun here in London, especially living with two not-so-former-Marauders extraordinaire._

_I'm very eagerly anticipating the ball. It'll be a kick in the teeth for a lot of people, particularly the Potter Family. Sirius says I'll be a lady killer - he and Remus have been teaching me to dance (groan). I'll be wearing grey, for the record, with more than one family crest upon the robes. Do you think there will be any particularly pretty girls? I know you fancy Cho, but I've heard more than one girl talk about you in a dreamy voice. "Ooh, he's a tall and extremely handsome young man with chiselled features, dark hair, and bright grey eyes." - and that was just my mother!_

_I'm looking forward to seeing you again, and Roger (I assume he'll go too). How is Roger? Is he still the same?_

_Yours,_

_Antonius_

* * *

 

_Dear Antonius,_

_I'm fine thanks, just the usual. Dad's moaning about work again. Not much has changed._

_I'm of the same opinion as you in regards to the ball. What do you mean, a kick in the teeth for a lot of people? You're not going to reveal your identity are you? I wouldn't be surprised if your Uncle Sirius is right; you always were a bit of a charmer with the women. "Strong and silent." they say. You've been learning how to dance? Bad luck, I had to as well. It was boring to say the least, but I expect it will be useful. I'll be in dark yellow/gold dress robes, only the Diggory crest for me._

_Of course there'll be pretty girls there! There usually are at these sort of events. And all girls are pretty, just in different ways._

_Roger is ... Roger. He's the same person, just taller and stronger. I haven't told him about you yet, I thought you might like to do that yourself at the ball. He still supports Pride of Portree - I mean how on EARTH can he call himself a Quidditch fan if he supports them?_

_See you soon,_

_Ced_


	14. Chapter 14

The day of the ball had arrived, and Harry was incredibly nervous. It was his first truly public appearance since the escape. Luckily, he had the reassurances of his guardians, Sirius and Remus as well as his best friend, Cedric.

Sirius had taken Harry to collect his wands and staff from Æsc the wand maker the day before, and he had decided to take the staff to the ball.

The first wand, made of elder and blackthorn, was a slightly red-stained light brown colour with an almost black handle. It was straight and true, with a few indentations to adorn it. It was, as promised, slightly pliable, and had a straight-edged B and a sort of arrow missing one half of the head carved into it. Those were the runes Berkano and Laguz. It felt warm to the touch, and emitted turquoise sparks from its tip.

The second was creamy rowan with a dark brown twisted hawthorn handle. The pattern of the wood remained, showing its natural beauty. This one was rigid, and would not bent at all, with a sharp S-like letter and trident, representing Eihwaz and Algiz, the runes of protection. It was colder than the elder wand, and had rainbows instead of sparks shooting from it.

The staff, though, was a work of art. It was a slightly silvery-grey, resonating power and magic. An F and shape was cut into it, and it was oddly gnarled. The cane-tube was even better, however. It was a roughly green colour and smooth to the touch, with an incredibly accurate depiction of a huge sphinx eye on the underside and a large serpent-head on the top, each of which was crafted of a single piece of exquisite Alexandrite - soft, silky, wonderfully cut golden gemstone originating from the Ural Mountains of Russia and named after Tsar Alexander II.

With the grey dress robes and family rings, he looked a million galleons, which was naught by his rather extensive monetary standards.

* * *

Also, Harry had been on a visit with Remus to the wizarding ophthalmologist in Birmingham. It was a good day out, and the wizard in charge of the practice easily fixed his eyes, meaning they would never need be obscured by glasses again. His emerald and brown-grey flecked eyes could be seen unobstructed now, a source of much delight amongst the female population.  _And I thought it was us boys who were supposed to come up with the corny 'Have you got a map?' chat-up line_ , Harry told himself.

If it continued like this, they would be throwing themselves at his feet, begging for his love. Harry had, on the other hand, made a new friend in Birmingham. Also having her eyesight corrected that day was Angela Smith, a tall, slim and graceful blonde-haired pureblood with sparkling blue eyes, framed perfectly by her elegant visage and lovely complexion. She was the older sister of Zacharias Smith, a stuck up, selfish boy in Harry's age group.

They bid each other goodbye, and she revealed she would be going to the Ministry Ball as well, due to her father's work as an Auror.

* * *

Remus and Sirius were waiting in the living room of the house, and were both dressed immaculately in their respective robes. Remus was smart, shaved and groomed, whereas Sirius had let his hair down, keeping to the traditional rugged look that had attracted such a large portion of Hogwarts' girls to him.

"Harry? Are you ready yet?" Sirius shouted up the stairs.

Harry descended them steadily, and seemed a little put out. "What's the hurry?"

"You see, Harry, we've got this ball to go to - nothing important, you understand." Remus began sarcastically.

"Oh, put a sock in it. We going now?"

"Yep. You ready for this, pup?"

"Probably not, but who gives a damn!"

"That's my boy." Remus ruffled Harry's combed down hair proudly. "Oops. Sorry." he said sheepishly, returning it to its previous state.

"Let's go then."

* * *

Masses of Ministry workers were mingling subtly in the ballroom, and a very talented violinist stood on stage, playing a soulful tune. Amongst the crowd was Cedric. He was rather worried, he had expected Harry to be there by then, but he had yet to turn up. Alongside him was Cho Chang, an extremely pretty girl of Asian descent, with long, shining dark hair and eyes and freckles on her nose. She also happened to fancy him. Then again, it helped that he had plans to marry her in future.

Soon, Cedric became frantic. The Minister himslef had arrived, as had the Potters. Almost everyone of importance was there. Except Harry.  _Where was he?_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Dames et Monsieurs, Damas y Caballeros, I present to you Lords Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and the Minor House of Lupin, accompanying Antonius Aristides Balendin Lupin-Black, King of Avalon, Prince of Enchanters, Lord Enchanter, Baron Lord Hogwarts, Serpent Master, Snake Lord, Beast-Master, Lion Lord, Bird-Master, Avian Lord, Mujina-Master, Mujina Lord, Lord Emrys, Royal Sorcerer, Lord Le Faye, Dark Sorcerer, Earl Peverell, Hallow-Keeper, Heir of the Houses of Lupin, Black and Gaunt!"

Jaws dropped all around the room.

Sirius and Remus entered, flanking a dark brown haired boy of no more than eight years old, wielding a green and gold sheathed staff. He raised his head slowly, revealing a wide grin. He winked at Cedric.

"What's wrong with all of you?" he asked, seemingly oblivious. "Honestly, guys, I can't take you anywhere!"

* * *

Madam Augusta Longbottom was just talking to the insufferable Potters when the announcement was made. She had never particularly liked them since Voldemort's attack, especially as Indignus, the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived', had repeatedly tried to bully her grandson, Neville.

Neville was a shy, quiet boy, quite unlike his parents in that respect. He was round-faced, with a short, chubby build and brown hair. He had been greatly affected by Harry Potter's disappearance, as he was one of Neville's few friends, and Neville had joined his circle immediately. Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, and Neville Longbottom - the Outcasts. They had brought out the best in Neville, helping him gain confidence and security, something he had never had before.

He still stayed in contact with the other two, but he had since reverted to his prior state of mind.

This new boy looked good for them. He was joking, relaxed, and quite un-snobbish.

Just like Harry Potter ...

* * *

Roger was standing next to Cedric. He was tall and handsome, with an angular jaw and fair skin. His hair was black as the night, and his eyes were brown. Usually, he was loud and boisterous to an extent, but not so that it was uncomfortable for others to be around him. Likeable and funny, he was never short of popularity, but he only had a few close friends.

However, now that Harry had gone, he had become sullen and sad without his company.

The way this new kid walked in, with a little understated swagger, was extremely familiar to him, but he dismissed it as his own imagination.  _There was no way that was Harry. No way_ , he told himself solidly.

* * *

Cedric rushed forward after a quick recovery, and grasped forearms with the boy, showing all signs of amity towards him. The boy - one of the most powerful people in the wizarding world - said something to him, and Cedric laughed, slipping him a knut.

 _Strange_ , Augusta thought to herself.  _Almost as if they had decided on a bet._

The fusty Minister for Magic stepped forwards, sleeked back his receding hair and twirled his lime bowler hat. "Welcome to the Annual British Ministry for Magic Ball, my lord." he said pompously, stooping low.

The boy - Antonius - looked on in distaste and raised his ring hand. "Actually, that would be your majesty, Fudge."

"O-of course, your majesty. I apologise most profusely." Fudge wrung his hands behind his back at his mistake. "May I introduce you to my most important members of the Ministry today? Lord and Lady Potter are the Heads of two departments. Lord Potter is Head of the Auror Department and his lovely wife is the Head of International Co-operation."

He steered Antonius towards them, and they rearranged their expressions from that of horror and anger to a neutral face in the matter of a few seconds. "Your majesty," James bent low in salutation. "My wife and I are two of the most powerful and influential people in the current Ministry." Lily copied him, curtsying instead. _What a pair of ponces_ , Augusta scrutinised derisively.

"Powerful enough to bother searching for your missing son? And I mean more than just a routine search conducted by the Ministry, Mr and Mrs Potter." Antonius sneered coldly. "By coming here today, you show not a hint of compassion. You are pitiful, heartless, and egotistical excuses for Homo sapiens with delusions of grandeur. I control the Ministry. I own Hogwarts. I am Royal Sorcerer to the Queen of England. I am King of Avalon. You dare to call yourselves powerful? No."

"You left your firstborn child alone ever since the day Voldemort-" there was a collective flinch. "-attacked your home. Just because your other son, Indignus, was declared the Saviour of Britain, you abandoned the other. You expected your beloved 'Boy-Who-Lived' to claim the titles I hold. Not bloody likely!" he scoffed. "He is nothing more than a spoiled brat."

And with those words he stalked off towards Cedric, who stood talking to his - hopefully - fiancée to be. "Where are the other Outcasts?" he whispered in Cedric's ear. Ced pointed them out. "Thanks. We'll tell them soon, don't worry."

"They've missed you, Harry. They really have."

"All the more reason to tell them."

* * *

A small girl stood alone in the room, ignored by all. She had waist-length silvery blonde hair and an absolutely dazzling smile. An older version of her, presumably her sister, roamed the dance floor. Harry walked up to her and stooped, taking her hand and gently brushing his lips on her knuckles. "Would you do me the honour of this dance, milady?"

She looked confused. "Parlez-vous Français?"  _Do you speak French?_

Harry's face cleared. "Mais biensûr, Mademoiselle. Voulez-vous me faire l'honneur de cette danse?"  _But of course, miss. Would you do me the honour of this dance?_

She nodded. Harry swept her towards the centre of the floor, and began a slow waltz with her, drawing the attention of a good crowd. She danced well, but could not dispel the shyness she held, and didn't speak another word. Satisfied, Harry walked onto his next victim.

Noticing a decidedly Chinese girl eyeing him up, he headed for her. "Nǐ huì tiàowǔ ma?" he enunciated carefully.  _Will you dance?_

"Wǒ hěn lèyì, xiānshēng." she replied steadily.  _I'd love to, sir._

After a scintillating quickstep, he approached an Indian girl.  _I might as well encourage international links_.

He took a deep breath. "Mērē sātha nr̥tya kr̥payā, saundarya." he inquired fluently.  _Please dance with me, beauty._

She blushed heavily. "Bēśaka, apanī mahimā."  _Of course, your majesty._

He grinned, and led her into a passionate rumba, continuing into a samba, then left her and signalled Cedric.

Catching his eye, Cedric nodded, and went over to Roger and Neville. He turned around and flicked up his left hand in a speaking mime, the prearranged signal for 'yes, talk'.

Harry walked into a side room and waited. A minute later, Cedric joined him, with Roger and Neville following him in. Harry stood up silently from his seat and locked the door.

"Cedric ..." he drawled.

"Of course. Roger, Neville-"

"What?"

Harry smiled cheekily before speaking. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

 


	15. Chapter 15

Neville and Roger were speechless. Neville's face was bright red, and Roger had a vein popping out of his forehead.

"Cedric, can you get Lady Dowager Augusta Longbottom, please? She needs to hear this."

Cedric nodded reluctantly and went to fetch her. She acted as guardian for both children, as Roger's parents were both dead, and Neville's were as good as. They had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Junior.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"

"Do you want me to remove the glamours?"

Neville jumped up, barely managing to restrain Roger from punching Harry.

"Listen, I can prove to you that I am who I say I am."

"Oh yeah? How?" Neville threw back, his eyes full of fire. "You're not Harry Potter."

A sad expression slid over Harry's face. "No. I'm not. Not anymore."

The door opened once more, allowing Cedric, Augusta, Amos and the two Marauders to enter.

Augusta was a formidable looking witch. She was tall, thin and bony, with hollow cheeks. Her hair was grey and tied in a bun.

"Well? Who are you, young man?" she asked promptly.

"I am Harry Potter, ma'am. Or rather, I was." he smiled warmly at Remus and Sirius. "My name now is Antonius Lupin-Black. I have been in hiding for a while now, and by pure luck, ran into Cedric at the Montrose Magpies and Falmouth Falcons match."

"We've been in contact since. And, before you ask, yes, he knows who I am ... was." he corrected.

"Cedric? Ced? Look me in the eyes." Roger said frantically. "Tell me - is it true?"

Cedric inclined his head subtly. "Oh Merlin! Harry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" he reached over and pulled Harry into a tight embrace, bawling his eyes out on his shoulder.

Neville had sunk to his knees in shock. "Harry?" he muttered weakly. "It's really you?"

"It's really me." Neville got up and joined them, jumping at Harry's neck, bear hugging him with all his might.

Roger realised something. "It was you. You were talking about yourself when you shot down the Potters. They were livid. Did they really do that?"

"They did."

"Why? How?"

"Let me explain ..."

About an hour later, Roger, Neville and Augusta had been filled in on all the happenings leading up to the ball.

* * *

Once outside the room, Cedric escorted Cho onto the dance floor and Roger went off to hunt a few ladies, including but not limited to Marietta Edgecombe and Lisa Turpin. Neville walked around with his Gran for a while, but was picked up by an attractive young witch by the name of Susan. In fact, if Harry remembered correctly, her aunt was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which put her on a par with James Potter in the Ministry. She had control over Hit Wizards and Obliviators, and even a little control over the Unspeakables.

He was preparing himself to have a conversation with her, when Sirius appeared at his shoulder. "Harry, I'd like you to meet my other joint-heir, Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Ancient House of Malfoy."

In front of him stood a pureblood with blond hair and grey eyes, obviously from the Black side of the family. He looked smart yet understated, and had a pale skin tone. He could have been no older than Harry himself, and had an obvious but strangely subdued confidence.

"Your highness, my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I am, alongside you, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." he introduced himself.

"A pleasure, Draco. And please, call me Antonius." Harry extended his hand, and Draco shook it tentatively. He scooped his arm around Draco's shoulders, and led him towards the drinks stand, leaving Sirius to speak with the elder members of the Malfoy family.

"So, Draco, do you have any hobbies?" he opened.

"Nothing much. I like Quidditch, if that helps." Draco answered, sipping his drink carefully.

"What team do you support?" Harry asked curiously.

He leaned in. "Don't tell my father, but I support the Magpies. You see, father follows the Falcons, and there would be quite the argument if I revealed otherwise to him."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. That was a surprise.

"Ah. Well, you're not the only one. I also support the Magpies, and I went to watch their match with the Falcons not long ago."

Thus began a long-winded conversation on the finer details of Quidditch teams around the globe. "... I think the Quiberon Quafflepunchers are too flamboyant." Harry argued. "They rely heavily on mistakes from the other team and rarely create real chances. Not to mention their lurid pink robes."

Both boys shuddered.

"When they do get chances, though, they capitalise on them, unlike the Braga Broomfleet."

"Ah, but the Broomfleet are using a Beater-marking system they invented which has made them one of the best teams in the world. Teams barely get a chance to capture the snitch with those hawks watching over them ..."

Soon, Angela, the girl Harry had met in Birmingham had joined in, leading to a very detailed discussion about the Caerphilly Catapults, her team of preference. "The Catapults have won the League Cup eighteen times, and the European Cup once. Did you know they've just signed Pride of Portree duo Meaghan McCormack and Dougal McBride?"

* * *

They were getting on like a house on fire. If there was anything in the world that brought young males together, it was the noble sport of Quidditch. With the upcoming Junior Quidditch European Championships, it was a much used subject.

"What position do you play, Draco?"

"Chaser, I suppose. I'd love to play Seeker, but I just don't have the frame for it." he said sadly.

"Yeah, you're too well built for that, I guess. A bit like me. I'm a Chaser, except I can play any position apart from Beater. Knowing me, I'd try to use my staff as a bat."

The two burst out laughing at the image.

"I just find being a Chaser so much more exciting. You're in among the action all the time, and you get the chance to whack a few people surreptitiously."

Draco snorted.

"That is something we can both agree on. Hey, Antonius, what do you say to a match this summer? But we don't have a pitch." he looked crestfallen.

"Why don't you come round mine, then? We've got one."

Draco's face lit up. "You're on."

"You don't mind if I invite a couple of others, do you?"

"Like who?"

"Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, and Neville Longbottom. You'd be welcome to bring a few of your own friends." he added.

"Great! It's a deal."

Together they rushed off to find the other three and invited them along. Naturally, they accepted.

At the end of the night, Remus and Harry departed, dragging an extremely drunk Sirius in tow. "See you on Tuesday!" he shouted at the retreating backs of the four boys.

"Bye!"

"I'd never realised just how heavy Sirius was before." Harry panted.

"Tell me about it." Remus gritted his teeth. "Just tell me about it."


	16. Chapter 16

Harry, you do realise that you will have to join the Wizengamot, don't you?"

"Yes. I just don't know the next meeting date so I can join officially."

"Today. You've got three hours."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Oh damn."

He rushed to his room for an unknown purpose, staying up there for about an hour.

* * *

In his room, Harry was making a list of potential relationships with the main and most powerful members and houses of the Wizengamot.

_**KEY:** House -  **'Political Standing'** \- Allies -  **Relationship to be offered (OTHER HOUSES MENTIONED/YES OR NO) (MY HOUSES FOR THEM TO ENTER RELATIONSHIPS WITH - x8 IS ALL)**_

_**1\. Alliances** _

_Longbottom House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Crouch, Ogden, Doge, Ollivander, Slughorn, Flume, Fortescue, Filibuster, Moody, Bagshot, Marchbanks, McGonagall, Davies, Davis, Diggory, Bones, Abbott and Potter -  **Alliance (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) (x8)**_

_Diggory House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Longbottom, Ogden, Davies, Doge and Potter -  **Alliance (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) (x8)**_

_Davies House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Longbottom, Diggory, Ogden, Doge and Potter -  **Alliance (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) (x8)**_

_Marchbanks House - _ **'Light'**  - _Allied with McGonagall, Dumbledore, Ogden, Doge, Slughorn, Moody, Filibuster, Crouch, Ollivander, Flume, Fortescue, Bagshot and Longbottom - **Political Alliance? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT DUMBLEDORE) (x8)**_

_Zabini House - **'Grey'**  - Allied with Crouch, Parkinson and Malfoy -  **Political Alliance? (ALL HOUSES) (LE FAYE, SLYTHERIN AND GAUNT)**_

_Malfoy House - **'Dark Grey'**  - Allied with Parkinson,  _Lestrange, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Flint, Rosier, Yaxley, Rowle, Umbridge, Travers_ and Zabini -  **Political Alliance? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT LESTRANGE, MACNAIR, ROSIER AND UMBRIDGE) _ **(LE FAYE, SLYTHERIN AND GAUNT)**_**_

_Bones House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Longbottom,  _McGonagall, Ogden, Doge, Slughorn, Moody, Filibuster, Crouch, Ollivander, Flume, Fortescue, Bagshot, _Fenwick, Fawcett, Boot, Shacklebolt, Black, Belby,__  Abbott and Potter -  **Political Alliance (ALL EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Parkinson House - **'Dark Grey'**  - Allied with Malfoy, Lestrange, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Flint, Rosier, Yaxley, Rowle, Avery, Umbridge and Travers _ _- **Political Alliance? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT LESTRANGE, MACNAIR, ROSIER AND UMBRIDGE) _ **(LE FAYE, SLYTHERIN AND GAUNT)**_**_

_Abbott House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Bones,  _Longbottom, _McGonagall, Ogden, Doge, Slughorn, Moody, Filibuster, Crouch, Ollivander, Flume, Fortescue, Bagshot, _Fenwick, Fawcett, Boot, Shacklebolt, Black, Belby,__  Abbott and Potter_ -  **Political Alliance (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) (x8)**_

_**2\. Affiliations** _

_Fenwick House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Bones, Abbott, Fawcett, Lovegood, Belby and McGonagall_ _- **Political Affiliation (ALL HOUSES) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Fawcett House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Bones, Abbott, Fenwick, Lovegood, Belby and McGonagall -  **Political Affiliation (ALL HOUSES) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Flume House - **'Light Grey'**  - Allied with Abbott, Bones, Marchbanks, Longbottom, Belby, Lupin, Potter, Black, Moody, Crouch and McGonagall -  **Political Affiliation (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Belby House - **'Light Grey'**  - Allied with Flume, Fawcett, Fenwick, Abbott, Bones, Lovegood, Lupin, Black, Potter, Crouch and McGonagall -  **Political Affiliation (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Moody House - **'Grey'**  - Allied with Abbott, Bones, Marchbanks, Longbottom, Shacklebolt, Crouch, Ogden, Doge, Ollivander, Filibuster, Fortescue, Bagshot, Black, Potter, Lupin, Flume, Fenwick and McGonagall -  **Political Affiliation? (ALL EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Crouch House - **'Grey'**  - Allied with Moody, Abbott, Bones, Marchbanks, Zabini, Longbottom, Shacklebolt, Potter, Black, Lupin, Flume, Belby and McGonagall - **Political Affiliation? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Shacklebolt House - **'Light'**  - Allied with Moody, Crouch, Potter, Lupin, McGonagall, Black, Bones and Abbott -  **Political Affiliation? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER) _ **(x8)**_**_

_McGonagall House - **'Light Grey'**  - Allied with Shacklebolt, Crouch, Moody, Belby, Flume, Fawcett, Fenwick, Lovegood, Abbott, Bones, Potter, Black, Lupin, Marchbanks, Dumbledore, Ogden, Doge, Ollivander, Filibuster, Fortescue, Bagshot, Slughorn, MacDougal, Perks, Brocklehurst, Davis, Brown, Bulstrode, Turpin, Edgecombe, Spinnet, Vane, Weasley-Prewett, Macmillan, Fawley, Blishwick, Boot, McClaggen, Smith, Alton, Alderton and Longbottom -  **Political Affiliation? (ALL HOUSES EXCEPT POTTER AND DUMBLEDORE) _ **(x8)**_**_

_Lovegood House - **'Grey'**  - Allied with McGonagall, Belby, Fawcett, Fenwick, Blishwick, Ogden, Doge, Perks, Fawley, Boot, Smith, Alton, Alderton, Brown, Bulstrode, Turpin, Davis, Macmillan, Spinnet, Vane, Weasley-Prewett, Edgecombe, Brocklehurst -  **Political Affiliation? (ALL HOUSES) _ **(x8)**_**_

* * *

When he left and went downstairs, he was dressed in the traditional plum robes of the Wizengamot with a silver embroidered W on the left side of the chest and an identical square graduate hat, as were the other two. He carried his staff in its cane-tube and both his wands in individual holsters strapped to each of his forearms.

It was rather ridiculous, but it worked. Sirius extended his arm to the other two and disapparated with a  _crack_.

* * *

The hall was full of old, doddery wizards in the stupid costume.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, do call this meeting of the Pureblood Houses to order. For our first topic, we have a young man wishing to claim his inheritance. I call to stand Antonius Balendin Aristides Lupin-Black!"

Harry stood up. "I, Antonius Balendin Aristides Lupin-Black do claim the seats I rightfully own - the lordship seats of the Sacred Houses of Emrys and Le Faye, the Revered and Most Ancient Houses of Peverell, Slytherin and Gryffindor and the Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. I also do claim the heirship seats of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Black and Gaunt, and the Minor House of Lupin."

"Show your rings, Antonius Balendin Aristides Lupin-Black, so that we may prove your claims rightful!"

Harry did, and was motioned to sit down. However, he opted to remain standing. "Actually, Chief Warlock, I would like to make some announcements. I wish to declare a True Alliance with the Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom on behalf of the Sacred Houses of Emrys and Le Faye, the Revered and Most Ancient Houses of Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Black and Gaunt, the Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the Minor House of Lupin. Lady Dowager Augusta, Regent Longbottom, do you accept?"

She stood. "On behalf of myself and my house, I accept." she took her seat once again.

"The same goes for the Ancient Houses of Davies and Diggory. Do you accept?"

"On behalf of myself and these houses, I accept." she repeated.

"Are there any other announcements, Lord Emrys?"

"Yes, Chief Warlock. Quite a few, actually. I wish to extend a Political Alliance to the Houses of Malfoy, Marchbanks, Zabini, Parkinson on behalf of the Sacred House of Le Faye, the Revered and Most Ancient House of Slytherin and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt. For the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Bones and Abbott it is on behalf of Sacred Houses of Emrys and Le Faye, the Revered and Most Ancient Houses of Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Black and Gaunt, the Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the Minor House of Lupin. Do you accept?" he turned to each of the representatives for the aforementioned houses.

"On behalf of myself and the Noble House of Malfoy, I accept." Lucius Malfoy, a pale, pointed faced man with pale blond hair and cold grey eyes said smoothly.

"On behalf of myself and the Ancient House of Marchbanks, I accept." a withered woman spoke.

"On behalf of myself and the Most Ancient House of Zabini, I accept." Madam Zabini, an extremely beautiful witch with dark tanned skin and long eyelashes, not to mention a tall, graceful form vocalised.

"On behalf of myself and the Noble House of Parkinson, I accept." a short wizard with black hair uttered

"On behalf of myself and the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Bones and Abbott, I accept." a square-jawed witch with close-cropped grey hair and a monocle declared.

"I would also like to enter a state of Political Affiliation with the following Minor Houses: Fenwick, Fawcett, Flume, Belby, Moody, Shacklebolt, McGonagall, Crouch and Lovegood on behalf of the Sacred Houses of Emrys and Le Faye, the Revered and Most Ancient Houses of Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Black and Gaunt, the Most Ancient Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the Minor House of Lupin. Do you accept?"

Benjy Fenwick, Sandra Fawcett, Ambrosius Flume, Damoclus Belby, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall, Bartemius Crouch Sr. and Xenophilius Lovegood all took to their feet and accepted.

"And please let it be known that from this day forth, a Blood Alliance has been declared between the Revered and Most Ancient House of Peverell and the Minor House of Lupin. A Blood Alliance had been declared between the Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff and the Minor House of Lupin. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

Remus reiterated it for lawful purposes.

"Let it be known also that from this day forth, a Blood Alliance has been declared between the Revered and Most Ancient House of Peverell and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A Blood Alliance has been declared between the Revered and Most Ancient House of Slytherin and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A Blood Alliance has been declared between the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

"Let it be known that from this day forth, a Blood Alliance has been declared between the Revered and Most Ancient House of Peverell and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt. A Blood Alliance has been declared between the Revered and Most Ancient House of Slytherin and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt. So mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be."

Harry sat down, smiling innocently at the expressions littering the faces of the most powerful people in wizarding Britain.

"R-right." Albus stuttered slightly, shaken. "Our second topic also involves you, your highness. Would you take the podium, or stand by your seat?"

"I shall take the podium, thank you Chief Warlock."

He stepped up to the heavy wooden platform, and addressed the press in the crowd. "I wish to rescind the Blood Alliance between the Revered and Most Ancient Houses of Peverell and Gryffindor and the Noble and Ancient House of Potter." Harry sneered. "They have besmirched their heritage with their name and attitude. They neglected their firstborn son because his younger sibling was proclaimed better by no other than our esteemed Chief Warlock." he demonstrated sarcastically. "Therefore, I wish to declare them as cast out, abandoned by the aforementioned houses as they abandoned their son!"

"HOW DARE YOU?!" James Potter jumped up and brandished his fist, angered at Harry's arrogance. "We care more than you could ever know!"

"Oh really?" Harry growled, his voice dangerously low. "I swear to my ancestors that I will be the one to break your life. You will not get away with this."

_SMACK!_

There was a collective gasp. James had punched him. Sirius leaped at his former friend and knocked him to the ground, pummeling him with his fists.

Harry turned around slowly, holding his jaw as the crowd descended into chaos. He pushed Sirius off James, then headbutted him in the chest. He pulled him up, then kneed him hard in the solar plexus, pivoting on his heel and making his birth father's voice several octaves higher with a well aimed foot. "Unggh ..." he moaned, his face grinding against the marble floor. One of the biggest advantages of wearing dragon hide boots was the toughness of them, and this really proved it.

"Don't - ever - touch me - again!" Harry spat. He looked up and rushed from the room.

"Antonius! Wait!" Amos, Augusta, and Sirius ran after him.

Remus finally lost the will to restrain himself, and dealt even more damage to James. "If you touch my son again, I will kill you, James. I will kill you."

On his way out, he was accosted by a witch with blonde hair set in elaborate and curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles studded with rhinestones, and had thick fingers ending in two-inch nails, painted crimson. Her blonde curls were curiously rigid, suggesting it was styled with the magical equivalent of hairspray. In addition, she had penciled-on eyebrows and three gold teeth, as well as large, masculine hands. Her bright scarlet painted fingernails and toenails could easily be likened to claws or talons. "Hello Lord Lupin, I'm Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet. Are you available for comment on what just happened? A few words? Maybe an interview?" Remus grinned wolfishly.  _This would be fun_.


	17. Chapter 17

_**DAILY PROPHET** _

**Bust up at the Wizengamot!**

**Reported by Editor-in-Chief Barnabas Cuffe**

_Yesterday at the monthly meeting of the Wizengamot, there were revelations. A new member was revealed - Antonius Lupin-Black, Head of the Houses of Emrys, Le Faye, Peverell, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, Heir to the Houses of Lupin and Gaunt, Joint Heir Black - and declared a mass of alliances and affiliations. Firstly, his eight Houses declared a True Alliance with the Houses of Longbottom, Diggory and Davies. Then, the Houses of Malfoy, Zabini, Marchbanks and Parkinson entered a Political Alliance with the Houses of Le Faye, Slytherin and Gaunt - whereas the Houses of Bones and Abbott with all eight houses of Lord Emrys._

_After that, Political Affiliations were announced between Lord Emrys' Houses and those of Fawcett, Shacklebolt, Moody, McGonagall, Crouch, Flume, Fenwick, Belby and Lovegood. Immediately following, a Blood Alliance with the House of Lupin was declared by the Houses of Peverell and Hufflepuff, a Blood Alliance with the House of Black was conceived by the Houses of Peverell, Slytherin and Gaunt. Also, the House of Gaunt formed the same Alliance with the Houses of Peverell and Slytherin._

_Subsequently, Lord Emrys openly rescinded the Blood Alliance held by the House of Potter and the Houses of Peverell and Gryffindor. "They have besmirched their heritage with their name and attitude. They neglected their firstborn son because his younger sibling was proclaimed better by no other than our esteemed Chief Warlock." he continued, finishing thus. "Therefore, I wish to declare them as cast out, abandoned by the aforementioned Houses as they abandoned their son!"_

_Lord Potter swiftly protested angrily. "We care more than you could ever know!"_   
_However, Lord Emrys reacted, his voice cold and harsh. "I swear to my ancestors that I will the one to break your life. You will not get away with this."_

_Finally pushed over the edge, Lord Potter punched him, causing an unknown degree of injury to Lord Emrys' jaw. Lord Black, adopted father of Lord Emrys and once-best friend of Lord Potter proceeded to pummel Lord Potter for the assault on his son. A furious Lord Emrys rose, pushed his father off, then did the same, coming close to knocking the Head of the Auror's Department into unconsciousness. Lord Lupin joined in as well, leaving the building with the Longbottom and Davies Regent and Lords Diggory and Black in pursuit of his heir._

_Our top reporter, Rita Skeeter interviewed Lord Lupin not much later._

_**Rita** : My Lord, what just happened?_   
_**Lord Lupin** : A slight inconvenience. My son broke the heart of the so-called 'Noble' and Most Ancient House of Potter._   
_**Rita** : Why exactly did he do that?_   
_**Lord Lupin** : You see, it has come to our attention since the disappearance of Harry James Potter, that the elders of his House neglected him, treating him as nothing more than a glorified house-elf. It was as if to them, he didn't exist at all. To do such a thing resulted in this, and I must ask them - what is really worth it?_   
_**Rita** : Is that what you believe is the reason for young Harry's exit?_   
_**Lord Lupin** : I know it is._   
_**Rita** : How is it that this information came to you?_

_At this, Lord Lupin smirked and stunned our reporter._

_**Lord Lupin** : I know where Harry is._

_He took off instantly, leaving a shocked Rita behind._

_The mystery has been partially solved, at the least - we know who has Harry Potter, but that still leaves the most important question: **where on earth is Harry Potter**?_

* * *

"Moony! How could you tell them? What the hell were you thinking?!" Sirius had lost control, pushing his friend up against the wall of the kitchen. Fortunately, Harry had gone to the toilet a minute before it happened. Sirius ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Don't you realise how important it was to keep this secret?"

Struggling for breath, Remus answered him bitterly. "Yeah! Well, do you have any idea what I've actually done? I told them I knew where he was - not that he lived with us, not that he's Antonius. Sirius; they don't know."

It hit him. He understood. He let go of Remus' lapels. "I'm sorry, Moony. I'm so sorry." he cried into his best friend's shoulder. "I thought - I thought we'd lose him."

"No. You know I'd never let that happen. Harry means the world to both of us, and I would like it to stay that way." he said softly, comforting Sirius. "It's okay."

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Harry jumped up and rushed to the door, wrenching it open and causing the knockers to fall flat on their faces in his excitement. They picked themselves up and dusted themselves whilst glaring at Harry who did have the decency to look a little abashed. "Sorry guys." he apologised awkwardly. "Draco hasn't arrived yet, so just go through and get yourselves a bit of practice if you want."

He showed them to the pitch, handing each of them a broom. "There you g-" he was interrupted. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Gotta go!" Knock. Knock. Knock. Harry sprinted to the front of the house, skidding to a halt and pulling the door open slowly. "Draco?"

"Hi, Antonius. I've brought a couple of my friends if that's alright?" the blond said.

"No problem. Just come on in."

Draco was followed in by a tall, dark-skinned young man with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes that sent a chill into the air who introduced himself as Blaise Zabini. Then came someone a little older, someone Harry recognised as Adrian Pucey, a potential candidate for a Chaser position on the England Under-12s Team. He was pale with a square jaw and slightly upturned nose, ice blue eyes and short, gelled black hair. Lastly, a girl stepped through the doorway. It was Angela. "Hello, welcome to the House of Black."

It was a little play on words, but it made them smile. "Come on, I'll show you the pitch." He led them through the garden to the stadium, letting them each choose their own broom. Unluckily, they had run out of brooms, and Harry had to fetch his pride and joy. It was only a prototype, but it was easily the fastest broom there. It was a silvery colour, its handle shining in the light and birch tail-twigs all symmetrically aligned. The handle was smoother than silk, yet oddly easy to grip. It felt soft to the touch, as it was shielded by cushioning charms. Holding the tail together was a thin strip of tungsten carbide bent in an absolute circle, to which copper rests flawlessly fitting his feet were attached. It looked perfect, but none of those were the most incredible thing about it; it was entirely made and designed by Harry, except for the cushioning charms, which were done by Sirius.

Jaws dropped among his friends, and not a little drool hit the floor.

"If any of you damage it," he threatened. He sighed. It wasn't worth it, it wasn't as if they'd do anything to it. They were in too much awe. "Who wants to play Quidditch?"

Seeing their nods, he called the two adults in the house. "We need a ref, so get your butts out here!"

A second later, the pair came hurtling out of the building at break-neck speed, fighting over who did what. In the end, Harry had to split it up. "Remus, since you did so well last time as a commentator, you can help the dogfather. Sirius, you need the flying practice, so get up there."

Sirius mock-growled, baring his teeth as Remus laughed. "Come on Paddy!"

They took off, rather gently in Harry's case. Once at proper height, they decided on teams. Harry and Draco were assigned as captains, and unsurprisingly they chose the people they had invited themselves. For Team Eagle, Neville was Keeper and Cedric, Roger and Harry were Chasers. On Team Viper, Blaise was in goal, Draco, Adrian and Angela in offensive positions. Sirius unsuccessfully attempted to wrestle Remus for the ball, whined, and sneakily punched it into the air as Remus explained the already well-known rules.

Harry sped forward, grabbing the quaffle with practiced ease and ducked under Angela, cannoning towards the other two Chasers. His teammates were slower, and he saw they couldn't catch up in time, so he launched the ball into the air, flipping his legs up like a scorpion at the last moment, just before Adrian would have reached it. He swung his ankles round and caught it as he jumped over Draco's head. Draco took the only sensible option and executed a perfect somersaulting barrel-roll so he was on Harry's tail.

Then, it was proven that the broom was not only spectacular to look at, but extremely fast, as Harry raced off towards the hoops and confused Blaise, shooting in the opposite direction that he looked.

They restarted quickly, and Harry agreed to stay in a defensive position so the match would be more fair. Even then, the superior speed and agility the broom gave him kept the opposition team from scoring for a whole twenty minutes, after which Harry, occupied by Draco and Angela, was unable to intervene which left a nervous Neville trying to get his first save of the match against a possible future world-class player.

Annoyingly, Adrian, Blaise and Angel had been assigned times to leave, which they had to adhere to strictly. The match ended 350-70 in favour of the Eagles, Neville putting in a cracking performance. Although Adrian and Draco were very good players, Harry was miles ahead of everyone and Neville was rapidly developing into a strong, reliable Keeper.

Cedric cornered Harry once the match was over. "Harry! Where did you get that broom?"

"Made it." he informed Cedric smugly.

"How?" he asked incredulously.

"I moulded melted aluminium and titanium for the handle and gathered a bunch of birch twigs for the tail. I hand-cut each twig individually, which took about five days. The handle took roughly three weeks to get right. That's why I'm so protective of it. After that, I had to act as a scribe and cut the runes Wunjo, Nauthiz, Tiwaz, Mannaz and Uruz. They represent glory, endurance, success, ability and speed. Hence the performance of the broom."

"What's it called?"

"It's rather funny actually. I've called it the Obsidian Moon."

Cedric looked blank. Harry sighed. "Remus' marauder name was Moony and as for Obsidian ... obsidian is what colour? Black. It's a play on my name. Lupin-Black."

"Nice one Harry! I thought it was just a typically pointless Quidditch broom name." he walked out of the house, trying to catch up with Roger and Neville.

A pair of cold grey eyes appeared as soon as Cedric left. "You're Harry Potter."

There was only one person those eyes could belong to. "Draco?"


	18. Chapter 18

"You're Harry Potter." the blond repeated.

"Oh damn." Harry groaned. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Draco snorted, obviously finding some humour in the situation. "What's so funny?" Harry was bewildered.

"I just realised ... your own father, saying he cared about you, ended up punching you ... and you beat the crap out of him!" he laughed explosively. It soon became infectious, Harry joining him quickly.

The noise attracted Sirius and Remus to their position. "What's going on? What's the joke?"

Harry struggled to regain a straight face. "Draco knows!" he burst into giggles.

"How is that funny?" Remus looked aghast.

"Cause he noticed that James said he cared about me, then punched me in the face. It kind of messes up his appearance doesn't it?"

"Not forgetting you all gave him a few bruises to remember you by!" Draco went catatonic with mirth.

The three permanent inhabitants of the house backed off. "It's getting kind of scary now. You've been laughing non-stop for fifteen minutes!"

For some reason, this made Draco laugh all the harder.

"Once you've calmed down and left, you need ask your parents something. You see, now you know one of our secrets, it is required that you join the group consisting of myself, Nev, Ced and Roger. We like to call ourselves a catchy little name - the Outcasts. There's a kind of ceremony you need to be a part of, and then you're one of us. That sound alright?"

Draco nodded. "That should be fine, I'll try to find out as soon as possible. I look forward to seeing you again, not forgetting the rest of you 'Outcasts'. Oh, and Harry?" he turned before exiting the building, throwing something into the air. "You might just find this interesting, as might the others."

"Thanks!" Harry said subconsciously, catching it reflexively. He skimmed through it, landing on the fourth page with Sirius and Remus leaning over his shoulders. "Is he trying to imply something about us?"

_**WITCH WEEKLY!  
EXCLUSIVE** _

_**The 50 Most Attractive Men of the Month  
according to Rita Skeeter and Tobias Misslethorpe** _

_1\. Alexis Karimoff - this Quidditch hunk is ripped and the definition of hottie_

_2\. Samuel Fawcett - Lord of the Wizengamot and all round big boy_

_3\. Benjy Fenwick - Tall and handsome royalty_

_4\. Charles Weasley - Dragon Handler and muscle-man_

_5\. Damoclus Belby - Regent of Belby and famous explorer_

_6\. Thorfinn Rowle - Absolutely huge and built like a hippogriff - maybe in more ways than one_

_7\. William Weasley - Older brother of Charlie and Gringotts Cursebreaker_

_8\. Gilderoy Lockhart - Writer and hero of several well known books_

_9\. Sirius Black - Ruggedly handsome Lord_

_10\. Cyrus Greengrass - A complete gentleman_

_11\. Barty Crouch Sr. - Older man with a lot of power_

_12\. Theodore Nott Sr. - Well connected Lord within the Ministry_

_13\. Antonius Lupin-Black - Smooth talking lady-killer and the most powerful person in Britain as well as highest placed under-15 ever_

_14\. Lucius Malfoy - Sleek and rich with the biggest heart for charity_

_15\. Evan Rosier - Pureblood duelist of the highest quality_

_16\. Ewan MacDougal - Scottish Lord and descendant of Queen Mary_

_17\. Regulus Black - Younger brother of Sirius and more refined_

_18\. Septimius Parkinson - Slightly stuck-up lawyer with a penchant for women_

_19\. Daniel Perks - Sweet and humble lover-boy_

_20\. Jim Blishwick - Mature man with a gentle touch_

_21\. Remus Lupin - There's something about a werewolf's stamina_

_22\. Roger Davies - Popular boy with seriously good looks_

_23\. James Potter - Head Auror and father of the Boy-Who-Lived_

_24\. Cedric Diggory - Roger Davies' best friend and ladies' man_

_25\. Draco Malfoy - Grey eyed and blond-haired son of Lucius_

He skipped ahead a bit, spotting three more important names.

_29\. Cormac McClaggen - Hot and muscular potential England Quidditch Keeper_

_34\. Adrian Pucey - Super Chaser and star of the future  
_

... and most surprisingly ...

_47\. Neville Longbottom - Not the most conventional guy but certainly worth a look at_

"Haha! He may be Lucius' son," Sirius laughed. "But he's got one hell of a sense of humour!"


	19. Chapter 19

"Pucey, get the quaffle!" a man shouted. "Now, what the hell are you playing at? Preece and Appleby, stop messing around! You're not paying attention. If it carries on like this ... you'll be kicked off the team."

The two chasers ducked their heads at the threat. "In fact, get out! Your work ethic is appalling and I've had enough. Leave!"

They were devastated. It was their greatest ambition to play at such a high level, but now it looked like they'd never get the chance. "Pucey, Higgs and McClaggen? You're the best I've got and to be frank, you're the only ones I trust to do this. Everyone else is off the team. We need more people, so bring your friends - if they're any good, that is."

"Yes, Coach Greengrass." they answered simultaneously.

"Good. Now go!"

* * *

"Terrence! Who are you bringing?" Adrian caught up with his Terrence Higgs, his best friend for several years and current seeker on the Under-12s England Quidditch Team.

"Oh, the usual crowd. You know, Vaisey and Graham. You?"

"I've got a few people in mind." was the succinct reply. "I bet McClaggen brings Zacharias Smith."

"Trying to be mysterious are you? You know that never works."

He just turned away. "Oh, I think it just might this time."

* * *

Green fire came out of the fireplace, followed by a head. "Hello? Draco? You there?"

Draco jumped. "Adrian Pucey, what brings you to floo-call me?"

"There's something I think you could help me out with. Not just you either. Antonius and the others."

"And what's that?"

"I'll tell you when they join you. You are connected to their floo, right?"

"Yeah, I am. I'll go and call them now if you want."

"Perfect."

The young Malfoy walked to his room and floo-called the Outcasts. "Hey, are you guys there? Adrian wants a word with us all."

Harry's face appeared. "No problem, we're coming."

A second later, four shapes stepped out of the emerald flames. "Draco?" Adrian emerged from outside the room. "Oh, there you are. Antonius, Cedric, Roger, Neville."

He inclined his head to each of them. "I've got an important question to ask you all." he breathed deeply. "You see, the England squad is ... low on numbers, to say the least. In fact, there are only three people left in the training program."

Harry's brows shot above his hairline. Adrian noticed. "I know. It's unbelievable. We need help, and you are some of the best I know."

"Antonius, you're a great chaser, as are you Draco. Neville here," he indicated. "Is a very reliable keeper. Cedric's a class seeker, and it would seem that Roger is perfectly suited for being a beater. So what do you say? Will you come to the pitch and become England's next generation of Quidditch players, or lounge around wishing you had for the rest of your lives?"

Harry spoke up first. "I can't speak for the others, but you can consider me in."

"And me."

"I think we all are." Cedric said.

"Damn right." Neville reiterated. They stared at him. "Just cause you never hear me swear, it doesn't mean I'm completely innocent."

Adrian shook his head. "I guess not. I'll see all you guys at five o'clock pronto."

"Where's the training ground?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"Oh just a small place. It's not very big, but you might have heard of it - Queerditch Marsh."

"Queerditch Marsh? As in the birthplace of the first version of Quidditch. Merlin's wrinkled, saggy, hairy scrotum!"

"I suppose that sums it up pretty well, yeah."

"And you called that a small place?!"

"It is!" he smirked. "I mean come on ... there are only seven pitches!"

* * *

Later, at approximately four o'clock, Harry was putting some finishing touches to a little surprise for the other members of his friendship group. "Padfoot! We need to go or I'll be late!"

He heard some grumbling from downstairs as he packed the presents carefully inside an enlarged cello case. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now." Harry rolled his eyes. Sirius was presently entertaining some women 'of a rather questionable nature'.

"Okay. It's just bad timing you know ..." Sirius whined, almost begging.

"Oh, get over yourself, you jumped-up mutt with the maturity and bladder of a puppy."

"But ..."

"Padfoot. Heel! I said heel!"

Sirius moaned. "Bite me."

"I thought that was you. You're the dog, not me."

Sirius growled.

* * *

"Hello, how can I help you?" a pretty blonde lady greeted them as they arrived at Queerditch Marsh.

"Ah, hi. Erm ... my son is here for the training camp." Sirius said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, you need a personal invitation from ..."

"Antonius! You came!"

"Of course I did, Adrian. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"What's in the bag?" he asked, as he saw the case.

"A little something for all of you." Harry stated.

"Okay ... what is it?"

"That's a surprise."

"Oh, come on."

"Nope, not until the others get here."

"Please?"

"No."

"Well, it was worth a go. Anyway, welcome to Queerditch Marsh, training camp of the England Under-12s Quidditch Team." at the sight of Ced, Roger, Nev and Draco, he added, "The same goes for you guys."

They greeted them, only to be introduced to identical ginger twins by Cedric. "These lean, mean, pranking machines are-"

"Gred and Forge Weasley, pranksters extraordinaire, at your service." the pair bowed mockingly.

Sirius' ears perked up. "Did someone say pranks?"

Harry groaned. "Gred and Forge Weasley, meet the one, the only Sirius Black a.k.a. ... Padfoot!"

They gaped in awe. "You-"

"-were a Marauder?"

"What do you mean 'were'?" Sirius snapped dangerously.

They bowed, attempting to kiss his feet.

"We are not worthy-"

"-of your greatness-"

"-o Prank Lord!"

"How do you know about that, anyway?"

"The so-called Boy-Who-Lived showed us the Map-"

"-claiming his father-"

"-James flipping Potter-"

"-was Prongs."

After that hilarious yet confusing parry of words, Sirius recovered. "He was. 'Was' being the operative term."

"What about your other-"

"-partners in crime-"

"-Moony and Wormtail?"

"Moony is my best friend, and is currently the twenty-first ranked most attractive male of the month. Me," he puffed out his chest. "I'm ninth. I'm just that sexy."

"So Moony is Remus Lupin?"

"Yep."

"And Wormtail?" one of them quizzed.

"Is no longer a Marauder. He betrayed his own, and has been cast into hell for eternity - or if not, he should be."

"We're so sorry-"

"-we didn't know-"

"-or we would never-"

"-have asked."

"That's alright." he acknowledged grudgingly. "So what position do you play?"


	20. Chapter 20

"Right, you're all here for one thing and one thing only - to play Quidditch. The question is, will you?" the slightly portly man enunciated loudly.

"YES COACH GREENGRASS!" the motley group of recruits shouted. He had already drilled them on the importance of their attention to him and their efficiency as a team. It was like the military; it wasn't just for looking smart, it was to mould them into a strong, reliable group acting as one person. This way, they built a sense of team spirit early on.

"How?"

"TO THE BEST OF OUR ABILITIES!"

"Good. I assume you've all brought your brooms?" he asked rather rhetorically.

There were a few mumbled 'Yes'es from the bunch. "Let's try that again. Have you all brought your brooms?"

"YES COACH GREENGRASS!" came the resounding answer.

"Better. Go get them, and get ready to play. Keep in mind this is a test of your skill and mentality, as well strength and endurance. If you have bad brooms, you're less likely to get on the team as the others will have an advantage in the aforementioned points."

At this, Fred and George groaned. "YES COACH GREENGRASS!" he heard one last time.

Harry collected his cello case, and beckoned for his crew to come over. "Adrian, you know I told you about presents earlier?"

Said boy nodded. "Well here they are!" he opened the case with a theatrical flourish and whipped several items out of it. "I am proud to present each of you with your own broom, made by yours truly."

They gaped. Five pristine broomsticks were splayed out before them, as if basking in their own magnificence.

"Cedric, as you're going for the position of Seeker, I've made you the fastest, most agile broom I could."

It was sleek and streamlined, made from the branch of a black walnut tree and twigs from a cocobolo plant, with steel footrests and the runes Gebo and Sowilo, for balance and success.

"Neville, you're a Keeper by nature, and you need a strong broom. Here it is."

He passed over a verawood-handled broom with narra twigs. It was sturdy and slightly rectangular etched with Thurisaz (representing a reactive force) and Raidho (for making good decisions), and it also had thick osmium rests.

"Roger, if I remember rightly you wanted to be a Beater, so here's yours."

A bocote (a strong yet light wood) handle and Indian ebony tail broom, imprinted with Wunjo (for harmony with his fellow Beater) and Dagaz (security), not forgetting cast iron foot stands, was handed to him.

Then came the chasers' brooms. To Draco and Adrian, he gave almost identical brooms to his own, only different in colour and size, with the occasional modification, such as the engraving of Othala (indicating group order and prosperity).

"By the way, you'll all have to name your own brooms, or they won't truly be yours." Harry said casually.

"You're giving one to me?" Adrian was astonished. After all, he wasn't part of his closest group of friends, he was still a bit of an outsider.

"Of course! You're the one who invited us here, and I really like you. We're good friends, so I don't see why you're so surprised." Harry looked thoughtful for a second. "In fact, I'd like to formally request your presence amongst our most exalted ranks, as an Outsider. Do you accept?"

"Yeah!" he had a 'well, duh' expression on his face, quite understandably.

"In that case, Draco?"

"Yes?" the young pureblood lifted his eyes from the masterpiece that was his broom.

"When are you coming over for the ceremony?"

Realisation dawned in the blond's mind. "How about tomorrow morning?"

"Great. Adrian, come to our place at say ... just before ten o'clock. You too, Draco."

"No problem. My parents don't really care what I do, they think I'm mature enough to do what I want."

Harry scoffed. "Not likely."

"Oi!"

* * *

"Fred, we've got crap brooms! Some of these kids have got Comets, we don't stand a chance!" George whispered, losing faith.

A voice came from over their shoulders. "Oh really? That can soon be remedied."

They swivelled on a sixpence, and were met by the sight of the members of the Outcasts gang. Neville and Cedric picked up the Comet Two Sixty brooms they had brought to Queerditch Marsh, and gave them to the twins.

Their jaws dropped. "You're giving us your brooms? Are you mad?!"

Cedric grinned. "Nah, we just got some better ones."

"Better ones? Better than the Comet Two Sixty? You really are mad."

"Oh, I'm not." Cedric denied. "I also have a few extra brooms your brothers, and probably your sister, would quite like."

"What type?" George asked greedily.

"Cleansweep Sevens." Neville answered brusquely. "Do you want them?"

"Do we want them? Hell yeah!" the incredulous brothers cried.

"Then meet us at the entrance after practice."

"But ... we don't want charity, or anything ..."

"Don't worry, you'll pay for them. Just nowhere near as much as the average price."

Fred and George skipped for joy, and thanked them profusely.

"I just thought you might want to have a decent opportunity to gain a place on the team. Good luck." Roger wished them. "And may the best Beater win!"

"Don't worry, we will!" they called after his retreating back.

* * *

"First test!" Cyrus Greengrass yelled. "This will test your speed. You will all race the length of the pitch on my whistle. Special devices have been fitted to your broom to time you and your reaction speeds at the start."

"Seekers first! I want you to line up by the North End hoops."

Cedric and the only other contestant, Terrence Higgs - a lightly tanned boy with ash brown hair - mounted their brooms. "On your marks ... get set ... go!" the whistle was blown, and Cedric accelerated away from his counterpart with ease, pushing harder and harder as the race continued. Although he finished in just over five seconds, he felt he could have gone much faster.

Coach Greengrass jotted down the times on a board, and started a tally. Whoever won got a line, whoever lost didn't. The higher you placed, the more points you got. With the Chasers, it was marked out of six.

"Chasers! Get ready!" Harry, Draco, Adrian and three others prepared themselves. "Go!"

Harry took of like a lightning bolt, as did Draco and Adrian, covering the ground quickly. The trio finished in approximately the same times as Cedric, Harry being fastest.

"Beaters, you're next!" Roger, the twins and an arrogant looking boy with golden hair, who they believed to be Zacharias Smith, gestured they were steady. "Go!"

Roger streaked ahead, but the twins weren't too far behind on the Cleansweep Sevens, which they had decided to use over the Comet Two Sixty, the model Smith was racing.

When it came to the Keepers, Neville easily outclassed his cocky opponent, finishing several lengths ahead.

"Right, well done all of. You ready for the next challenge?" Cyrus catechised.

"YES COACH GREENGRASS!"

"Good. Now, we will assess your reflexes. There will be a good deal of obstacles that you must avoid, and again, it is a race. For each obstacle you hit, five seconds will be added to your time. Every one you get past will win you a point, but the time counts too, just like last round." he barked out. "Same order as last time. Ready ... go!"

He conjured a hoop for each Seeker to pass through, then suddenly changed it's angle, catching Higgs out slightly, making him brush it gently which earned him a half-deduction. Cedric, with the far superior broom, was able to adjust with plenty of time and cleared it with no problems. Ahead lay hurdles both from above and below, as well as moving barrels and a ramp at the end.

Swerving between the barrels, the Seekers were met by a barrage of polystyrene blocks conjured by the coach. Unsurprisingly, they both had difficulty, but Higgs was almost unseated whereas Cedric managed to dodge the majority of them as he headed towards the ramp, wondering what to do.

A springboard appeared, and imitations of bludgers were hurled at the two. Seeing the board, Cedric plummeted towards it whilst avoiding the heavy objects thrown his way. At the last second, he reversed his broom so that his tail hit first, and was propelled into the air swiftly, spotting a small, winged ball and catching it.

The course was changed slightly for each position, with the Chasers carrying a quaffle each and the Beaters equipped with bats to ward off the fake bludgers. There was quite a bit of jostling from the Keepers and Chasers, which Harry and Draco circumvented cleverly.

After a few more grueling rounds, each of them designed to push the candidates to their limits, they reached the final trial. It would decide who would be chosen for the first team, and who would act as reserves.

The Seekers started again. Ten snitches were released in a row, and Cedric and Higgs had to compete for them. Once they had done that (Cedric catching seven to Terrence's three), they had to chase after rapidly fired golf balls, coming out of an air cannon.

The Beaters went next, and were put in pairs - the Weasley twins against Roger and Smith, who lost. They had to try to knock each other off their brooms, which was rendered completely safe by the crash-mats and cushioning charms on the ground. Fred and George seemed to just read each other's minds, putting into play seamless moves invented by the contemporaries of that position.

Lastly, came the Chasers and Keepers. They were to be evaluated at the same time, with each Chaser shooting five times at each Keeper. Whoever saved and scored the most, won the most points.

Vaisey, a black-haired, grey-skinned boy a year older than Harry, began. Six of his shots were saved (four of which were saved by Neville). A similar looking lad by the name of Montague followed, with similar luck (this time Neville stopped three as the other Keeper saved four).

Alicia Spinnet, a dark-skinned and brown haired girl went after him, having half her shots saved.

Lastly came the Outcasts, Draco being the first. He twisted and turned, scoring seven times which put him in the lead.

Adrian, the more experienced player, used his physical strength and stamina to beat out his opponents, tying with Draco.

Then, it was Harry. On his first shot, he lured the other Keeper - called McLaggen - out, and lobbed him, the quaffle flying through the centre hoop. He employed the same technique on Neville, who managed to deflect it so that it nearly missed, but it bounced in off the rim.

On his second run, he darted at McLaggen, dropping the quaffle purposely so the Keeper would be distracted, and kicked it up again, leaving Harry to just fly through the hoop with the oddly shaped ball in hand. Against Neville, he tried a long distance shot, placing one finger away from the others as he flicked his wrist as late as possible, spinning it towards the goal and confusing Neville.

His next two shots at McLaggen were good, but Neville managed a perfect fingertip save that knocked the quaffle into the stands. Unfortunately, he was unable to prevent the next one from being a goal.

Harry racked up the points, until his last shot. He was against an anxious Neville, who looked nonetheless brave. As he pelted towards his friend, he fumbled the quaffle. Instinctively, he brought his feet either side of it and flicked it up over his head, executing a perfect Chelmondiston Charge, leaping into the air and rolling into a ball, landing as if on a surfboard and thrusting his palm outwards. He raised his head to see the quaffle go sailing through the far hoop untouched by the Keeper. He pumped his fist. "Yes!"

* * *

"Well done everyone! You did very well." Coach Greengrass congratulated later. "You've all made the cut, and will be on the squad. It''s just a matter of where. The task of telling you lot whether you're great or just good has, unluckily, fallen to me."

"First team Seeker is ... Cedric Diggory. I'm sorry, Higgs, but you were outflown today."

The boy shook hands with Cedric, demonstrating good sportsmanship. "First team Beaters are ... Fred and George Weasley. Smith, Davies - if it had been anyone else, you would have made it, but they work in unbeatable unison and I just can't ignore that."

The two nodded dejectedly, knowing he was right.

"Chasers are ... Antonius Lupin-Black, Adrian Pucey and ... Draco Malfoy. You should be proud of yourselves, especially you, Lupin-Black. Absolutely spectacular."

"Tough luck," Harry grimaced at the unsuccessful reserves.

"And the Keeper is ... Cormac McLaggen."

Silence.

"What?!" Harry was outraged. "Neville beat him on points!"

"Longbottom may have won on points, but he doesn't have the confidence. I'm sorry, kid, but that's the way it is."

"Bullshit!"

Forget outraged, Harry was incensed. "Neville outflew him, outmanoeuvered him and saved more shots. He's the better Keeper!"

Cormac snarled. "Oh really?"

"Yeah! You're too cocky. Coach," he pleaded to Greengrass. "Did you not hear him boasting about how his parents payed the selectors off?"

It hit him. "They did, didn't they? Tell me it isn't true. Please!"

"Lupin-Black, come with me."

Harry huffed, but allowed himself to be escorted to Cyrus' office.

Greengrass shut the door and gestured for him to sit down. He did. "Son, we need money. The Under-12s Team gets hardly any money from sponsorship, and the lad's parents offered to take care of that."

"But why don't you do the right thing - let Neville be Keeper, you know he's better!"

"I'm sorry, but we need the cash." he tried to explain it, to justify it.

"How much are they paying?" Harry queried gruffly.

The man was taken aback. "About fifty galleons a month."

"Fifty galleons a month?" he scorned. "I'll give you a hundred thousand up front, and I can recommend a much more generous sponsor, if you make Nev the Keeper."

That certainly gained his coach's interest. "Who?"

"Do you accept the deal?"

"Of course! That's more than we've had in over a decade! So who do you think should be the new sponsor?"

"Jonathan Poe. He owns a majority share in the Vratsa Vultures and the Grodzisk Goblins. He'd be ideal, and I'm sure he could be persuaded to sponsor this squad too."

"Great! While you're here, I've got a question for you. Where did you get your broom?"

"It's hand-crafted. I call it the Obsidian Moon - kind of a play on words referring to my name."

"Who built it? Because it performed better than everyone else's, except Malfoy's, Pucey's, Diggory's, Davies', and Longbottom's. They were pretty much the same, and I assume it was the same maker."

"You'd be right about that," Harry said as he got up to leave the office. "They were made by the same person."

"I ask again - who? They were faster than any I've ever seen before, and handled like a dream!"

Harry opened the door with a creak and smiled. "I made them." he declared, leaving a stunned Quidditch Coach in his wake.

"YOU made them?!"


	21. Chapter 21

"Team! I have an announcement to make - that means shut up, McLaggen!" Greengrass bawled. The boy sneered. "After due deliberation, I have overturned my original decision. Longbottom, congratulations - you're Keeper."

Neville grinned from ear to ear as the Outcasts patted him on the back. "Well done Nev!"

"Alright, alright. That's enough. Our first qualification match is in three days time," the coach leered. "Against Armenia. With this team, we should breeze through. In fact, there's only one team in our group who could compete with us - Russia. This is the best team we've had in a good few years though, and I have full confidence in you. Dismissed."

The newly dubbed England squad meandered off in small clumps.

"How much do you want for the brooms? Gotta be worth a ton!" the Weasley twins and the Outcasts haggled.

"Give us five galleons - one for each broom - and we'll be happy. Yes, they cost a lot more, but our new ones have a much higher performance level, which makes up the vast difference in pricing."

The twins rubbed their hands in glee. "Deal!"

* * *

"How did it go, pup?" Sirius joined up with Harry afterwards.

"Well, Draco, Adrian and myself all got first Chaser positions quite easily. Cedric is the Seeker, Roger is unfortunately the only reserve Outcast; the Weasleys took the Beater spaces. And Neville was made Keeper after my little discussion with the Coach."

"What happened?" Padfoot was puzzled as to why he would need to go that far.

"McLaggen, the reserve Keeper, was picked above Neville originally. His parents were sponsors, and the selectors decided to line their pockets with a measly fifty galleons per month, instead of letting the superior player take his rightful position," Harry told him. "So we had a little chat. I've agreed to donate a hundred grand in return for Neville's guaranteed placing, and I recommended Jonathan Poe as sponsor."

"A hundred thousand? Bloody hell, don't you think that was a bit steep?"

"Not really." Harry shrugged. "This way, the team will have enough money to upgrade the equipment available, and will never have to sell out a better player what with the Vratsa Vultures part-owner sponsoring them. It'll also raise media attention, which in turn adds to the monetary assets of the squad."

Sirius admitted that it made sense. "I suppose you're right, kid. Take my arm, I'm about to disapparate."

The young Chaser held on tightly as they vanished with a POP! He felt just like he was being forced through a very tight rubber tube, he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull. _  
_

As they re-emerged at the Black Manor, he shuddered. "I hate apparition!"

* * *

"Mum! Dad! We're back." the ginger mischief-makers landed by portkey at their home near Ottery St. Catchpole, called the Burrow. Nestled amongst rolling hills and fertile meadows, other wizarding families in the area included the Diggorys, the Lovegoods and the Fawcetts.

The building itself might once have been an old stone pigpen, which had several crooked stories attached to it. Four or five chimneys dotted the roof of the house, and the entire building was most likely held up by magic due to its crazy construction. The Burrow had a small yard at the front of the house, with a garage that stored Mr. Weasley's flying Ford Anglia and Muggle artefacts, and a chicken coop that housed the family's chickens. A sign in the ground read "The Burrow" by the main entrance. The back garden contained a stone outhouse, giving Fred an idea. "George - are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Damn right I am-" his brother replied.

"-perfect broom shed!" they echoed, stowing them inside.

A noise came from the kitchen of the house. "Fred? George?"

Molly Weasley (née Prewett), the family matriarch rushed out. She was a short, plump, kindly-looking woman who could so easily look "like a sabre-tooth tiger" when she was angry with her sons Like the rest of her immediate family, Molly had flaming fiery red hair, and her eyes were the same shade of warm brown as her young daughter, Ginny's.

She was followed out by her husband, Arthur. Like many other members of the Weasley family, Arthur had bright red hair, though he was a little balding. He wore glasses and had blue eyes, and also possessed the tall, thin build inherited by his eldest son Bill. He also had visible marks somewhere on his body from a decent caning whilst at Hogwarts, for being out after curfew. He had a job in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, which he thoroughly enjoyed on behalf of his staunch belief in the equality of all magical and Muggle people, who's replacements for magic he found fascinating.

Both of them were related to the Black family through marriage, as Arthur was the son of Cedrella Weasley (née Black) and Septimius Weasley, a blood-traitor. Cedrella's marriage to him saw her disowned by the then Head of House Black. Molly was the niece of Lucretia Prewett (originally Black) who was also Sirius' aunt by way of her brother.

"Boys, you're back!" Molly brought the prankster pair into a bone-crushing embrace, releasing them only after a good half a minute when they began to choke. They were hugged in turn by their father in a much more calm and gentle fashion.

"How did it go? What was it like?"

The rest of the clan had emerged. Bill, a Gringotts apprentice curse-breaker (goblins had different educational values, and it would be valuable work experience for his future full-time job) was tall, thin, handsome, and had red hair like the rest of his family. He wore it long and in a ponytail, and he had an earring with a fang dangling from it. He wore clothes that would not be out of place at a rock concert, and he favoured boots of dragon hide.

Charlie was short and stocky, and he had muscled arms despite his slightly younger age. His face was weather beaten from working outdoors, and was so freckled that he looked tanned. His fingers were usually covered in calluses and blisters, and he had a large shiny burn on one of his arms. He had little interest in women, as he preferred the company of the dragons in his care.

Next was Percy. Percy was tall and thin, like his father and Bill, with the vivid red hair and freckles complexion that was the norm of his relatives. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, and tried to carry himself in a dignified manner, although he usually came off looking pretentious and silly. It was his greatest ambition to become Minister for Magic, so he attempted to excel as much as possible in all school subjects so as to gain the position of Head Boy at Hogwarts.

Four year old Ron had blue eyes, a long nose, and could be described as having big hands and feet. He was currently dragging along his younger sister, Ginny, an extremely pretty girl (for her age) with red hair which she wore in a long mane. She was of petite stature and had bright brown eyes like her mother. She was also the first female Weasley born into the family.

Fred and George ran over to her and lifted her, giggling, into the air where she pretended to be an aeroplane, something they had seen on the front cover of one of their father's sketch books. They then proceeded to tickle her mercilessly.

"Well, how did it go?" an anxious Charlie (who turned down the chance to play as Under-21s Seeker for his country) urged.

The duo turned ear-to-ear grins upon the rest of the brood. "Oh, I think we did-"

"-quite well-"

"-I mean we only-"

"-got the first team-"

"-Beater spots!"

Molly shrieked in excitement. Finally her boys would be doing something she approved of.

"You Beaters?" the adorable Ginny squealed cutely. "Yay! Me go see kwi- kwi ..."

She looked pleadingly at her brothers. "Quidditch." they supplied.

"Me go see kwi-ditth!"

Fred ruffled her hair affectionately. "You all will. Family of players get to see matches for free from the Top Box, with a choice of a tour of the stadium afterwards."

"Woo!" little Ron tackled his legs, almost bringing him crashing down on top of him. "I love Quidditch!"

"That reminds us-"

"-we've got a surprise for you."

They marched off in the direction of the newly converted broom shed, their parents and siblings in tow. "We have managed to acquire some brooms-" one of them started.

"-at a very reasonable price, mind you-" the other added at the expression apparent on his mother's face.

"-of five galleons." the original twin announced proudly.

He swung open the door, revealing two Comet Two Sixties and three Cleansweep Sevens, courtesy of the Outcasts.

"Fred and George Weasley, where on earth did you steal those brooms from?" a fiery tempered Mrs. Weasley ground out.

"We didn't-"

"-we swear!"

Their mother glared piercingly at them. "Honest, we didn't mum! We bought them from Cedric and his friends - ask them!"

"We couldn't believe it either, at first. He said they'd got better brooms - better than the Comet and the Cleansweep-"

"-he didn't lie, either. Antonius-"

"-you know, the really powerful kid-"

"-gave them all super fast new brooms-"

"-the like of which we've never seen-"

"-let alone heard of."

Arthur sighed amiably. "Okay, I believe you," the faces of the twins, Charlie, Bill, Ron and Ginny all lit up. "But, we are going round to Ottery St. Catchpole in the morning to speak to Cedric's father about it, do you understand?"

"Yes Dad!"

"Good. I get first dibs!" he seized one of the Cleansweeps and took off.

"Arthur Weasley, you are incorrigible!"


	22. Chapter 22

Harry brought the meeting of the Outcasts to order. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

As he banged a gavel on the table, the others present echoed his words.

"This meeting has been called to induct new members into these prestigious ranks. Please welcome Adrian Pucey and Draco Malfoy."

Draco strutted calmly into the centre of the room with a confidence bordering on arrogance - something he had inherited from his father. Walking at a slower, more tentative pace was Adrian, smiling nervously at Harry.

Neville rose to his feet. "Let it be known that Draco Malfoy has discovered our president's secret and is the perfect candidate to be accepted among us. I vouch for him."

"Let it be known that Adrian Pucey has the qualities required to join this body. He has come close to discovering our president's secret, and as such is an ideal candidate for adoption into the heart of our group." Cedric stood and said. "I vouch for him."

Harry looked down his nose at them from his elevated position at a tall desk not unlike those you might find a judge sitting behind in an official courtroom. "I have heard these words, and act accordingly. Welcome, Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey into the Outcasts Club. For now, you are Outsiders, and shall sit on my left. When you have been deemed worthy of promotion to the position of Outcast, you shall sit on my right. Do you, the Outcasts, have any words?"

The Outcasts all left their seats and sang.

"For he's a jolly good fellow,  
For he's a jolly good fellow,  
For he's a jolly good fellow,  
Which nobody can deny!  
Which nobody can deny,  
Which nobody can deny!  
For he's a jolly good fellow,  
which nobody can deny!"

"Well, there is something you need to know." Harry sighed. "I suppose I should just tell you ... I'm Harry Potter."

Adrian almost toppled from his ornate oak chair in shock. "You're Harry Potter?" he spluttered. Draco smirked smugly, the older boy pointing indignantly at him. "You knew! You knew he was Harry Potter and you didn't tell me!"

"Yep."

"Ponce." Adrian threw at him.

"Idiot." returned the young Malfoy.

"Snob."

"Thicko."

Then Pucey came up with a clincher. "Barbie doll."

Draco inhaled sharply, paling dramatically. "Now that was below the belt!" he protested, pinching Adrian's forearm with all his might.

Harry looked amused. "Outcasts, have you reached a verdict?"

Roger took to his feet as a spokesman. "We, the Outcasts, have reached a verdict, after a good amount of due consideration, your honour. We find the battle of wits in favour of the Outsider Adrian Pucey over the Outsider Draco Malfoy, and propose that he be granted a series of trials in which we can deem his suitability to join the Outcasts."

"Any objections?" Harry asked. Predictably, Draco's hand shot up. "Yes?"

"What about me? What would I be doing in the meanwhile?" he looked most affronted.

Harry, president of the Outcasts Club, appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Pranking, pranking, and more pranking."

The blond pumped his fist in the air. "YES!"

Arthur Weasley marched up to the door and knocked thrice. "Hello, Amos? It's me, Arthur."

The door was opened by his friend, the Diggory patriarch. He worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for the Ministry, and had a ruddy face and a scrubby brown beard. "Hi Arthur. How are you?"

He invited him inside and sat him down on a comfy leather sofa. As his guest reclined, Amos fetched him a beer glass. "What'll you be having?"

"Oh, some of that Nubian Cerevisia would be perfect," he waved. When the potent ale appeared in the glass, he sipped at it appreciatively. "Wow, that really hit the spot."

"So, Arthur ... what brings you to my humble abode?" the host queried friendlily.

"It has come to my attention that my twin terrors have purchased some brooms from your son and his friends. What do you know about it?"

Amos nodded knowingly. "I ken what you mean. Yeah, I wasn't best pleased at first, until I saw what he'd got instead. That Antonius lad - phooey! What a broom!"

Arthur hadn't even noticed that he'd been holding his breath as he exhaled. "Thank Merlin for that! You see, Molly thought they'd nicked them from some unfortunate soul, so I thought I'd better check their story. Where is Cedric, anyway?"

"He's out with some friends in London. Why?"

"Just wanted to thank him for his generosity, but I suppose I'll have to relay that through you." he glanced at his watch. "Is that the time already? I'd better be off, my shift starts in twenty."

He got up and left the house after a brief farewell. "Enjoy the drink!"

Amos swivelled on his heel. There, on the beech table before him was a dusty, centuries old bottle of Ninkasi God's Nectar. He smiled. "Arthur, you sly old dog. Thank you!"

"Ladies and gentlemen ... welcome to the first Under-12s Quidditch World Cup Qualifications match! England vs. Armenia, here at the Ellis Moor Stadium - should be an absolute cracker!" the commentator announced.

"And without further ado, allow me to introduce the teams. Here come the Armenians: Keeper and Captain Narek Mkrtchyan, Beaters Hayk Deyrmenjian and Poghos Arshakuni, Chasers Aram Khachaturian, Samvel Ghazaryan and Gor Bagratuni ... and Seeker Milena Vardanyan!"

"Now, please welcome the home side, England! I give you: Keeper Neville Longbottom!" a cheer went up from the stands. "Beaters Fred and George Weasley! Chasers Draco Malfoy, Adrian Pucey and Captain Antonius Lupin-Black!" elicited another cheer. "And last but not least, England's Seeker ... Cedric Diggory!"

"Our referee for today is Arnold Vogler from Germany. The two captains have shaken hands, and they're off! Malfoy snatches the quaffle immediately and heads towards the left side of the arena, easily avoiding Khachaturian's sloppy tackle - oh, but now he's cornered! No, he's dropped the quaffle to Pucey who goes racing past with a bludger right on his tail ... and he's pulling away from it!"

"The bludger has given up on him, and he's left with a straight run to the hoops. He shoots ... he scores! Wait, Lupin-Black's kicked it back through the hole to Malfoy, who comes out of nowhere to smack it past the Keeper! That makes it 20-0 to England."

"Ghazaryan starts it again, he's a slippery one isn't he?" he gasped. "Ooh, and you could hear the clunk of the bludger from a mile away - what a great bit of beating from Fred, no, yes ... one of the Weasleys anyway." a chuckle passed over the crowd. "Lupin-Black on the ball, he kicks it up the pitch to Pucey. Pucey, Malfoy, back to Pucey who fumbles it- no, Lupin-Black catches it to score his first goal as Captain! 30-0!"

"Bagratuni passes to Khachaturian, who gets nobbled by Pucey. He whacks it forward to Malfoy - it's a goal! 40-0! Great match so far. Bagratuni goes solo and is hit instantly by a bludger to his broom! Lupin-Black capitalises, and scores once again! It's fifty!"

"Looks like the Armenians are going defensive now, only Khachaturian in attack in an attempt to limit the goals. It's not working! 60-0! They're really struggling against the young English trio of Malfoy, Pucey and Lupin-Black."

"Possession play from Ghazaryan and Bagratuni, they're keeping the quaffle well - not anymore, what a perfect Dopplebeater Defence from the Weasleys and Pucey's away! He puts it through the far left hoop, Malfoy recovers it and lobs the keeper for another! That makes it 80-0!"

Quarter of an hour later, Armenia were trailing by 280-20, having scored a couple of very lucky goals. "I think Diggory's seen the snitch! He has! Off he goes ... FOUL!"

The spectators roared.

"Penalty awarded for blagging - pulling on the broom tail of another player. Lupin-Black takes it ... he scores - 290-20! Complete domination from the England squad today. I hear they're trying out a new type of broom, designed by an unknown creator ... it's certainly working, that's three hundred! The Armenians are being forced into a full on defense by our young boys, and they really are struggling! You can just see the sweat dripping off them. 310-20! Pucey this time!"

"He's a physical player, is Pucey. Seems to me he's the first line of defence, then the Weasleys and Longbottom if he's beaten." the pundit observed. "Though he's anything but a slouch in attack - he's scored again!"

"If the England Chasers are anything like this off the pitch, they'll be extremely happy men!" he joked, drawing a few laughs from the enthralled audience.

"PENALTY! Classic case of blatching there, Ghazaryan definitely collided with him on purpose there. Malfoy lines up the shot, and it's in! He's scored nine now!"

"The Seekers have spotted the golden snitch! Vardanyan's the only girl in this match, and she's ahead of Diggory, who's in very hot pursuit! He's caught up with her, he can sense victory ... Deyrmenjian clobbers a bludger towards them, Longbottom hurls the quaffle and deflects it towards Vardanyan! Diggory catches the snitch - England have won, but Vardanyan's falling!"

The petite Armenian plummeted earthwards and the commentator closed his eyes in anticipation of the thump of her hitting the ground. Sure enough, there was a thump ... just not the one he thought.

"Malfoy's caught her! He's caught her!"

She looked into the eyes of her saviour. "You really shouldn't do that," he winked impishly and pointed at the man who had been describing the action all match. "You could have given the poor bugger a coronary."

"Well done, lads. You played brilliantly today, and if you were old enough I'd buy you all a pint!" Cyrus Greengrass proclaimed after the match, earning a few guffaws from the team. "However, I suppose I could get you a few butterbeers. After all, they're non-alcoholic."

He led the group through a big door. Inside were just under a hundred journalists occupying a heap of rickety plastic chairs, notebooks in hand.

Harry sat down first at the interview table, mimicked in turn by the others. Instantaneously, they were questioned. "Aaron Smythe, Daily Prophet Sports. How do you think this first match went?"

"Well, we're obviously thrilled at the result, but we would have realistically liked to get in a few more goals. They played well, just not as well as us." Greengrass answered.

"Kieran Fibbson from Quidditch Quarterly. I'd like to ask how the players felt today, in front of such a big crowd - it's not secret that for most of them, this was their debut international." he looked pointedly at Harry.

"I think I can speak for all of us when I say we had the time of our lives out there. It was absolutely great. Of course, there were the odd nerves beforehand, but we really started to flow once the game kicked off. Personally, I was terrified." he looked around at his team-mates, who agreed wholeheartedly.

"Diana Teak, working for Brooms Up. How long have you been training?"

Harry grinned. "We've only trained once, and that was at tryouts. Before today we'd never played together as a team."

Silence greeted his words, until someone at the back spoke up. "Are you single?"

The room burst into laughter at the blushing reporter.

"That depends." Harry flirted, further reddening her face.

"Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly columnist. What exactly does that depend on? The next one is for all of you - what is your ideal woman like?" a particularly garish looking woman asked.

"Well, there's intelligence and appearance," Harry started. "Then I'd need a spark. If my girl didn't have fun with me, she could never love me.

"As for ideal women," Greengrass interjected to the relief of the squad. "They're a bit young for that."

"What about you, Heir Malfoy? What prompted you to save the opposition seeker? Was it her good looks? Her ravishing smile?" she simpered, smiling with a mouth full of gold teeth.

Draco's face hardened. "As our coach said, I'm a little young to be in such a relationship. I'd do it for anyone, even my worst enemy. Heck, I'd even save Coach Greengrass if I had to!" he exclaimed. "However, that isn't to mean I'd have reacted quite as quickly. Yes, she is good looking. Yes, she has a ravishing smile. But just because I broke her fall, it doesn't mean I love her."

"So do you love her?"

He stalked off regally, turning at the last moment.

"Dunno yet," Draco admitted. "I'll let you know after the date."

Outside, in his dress robes Draco timidly approached a middle-aged, olive-skinned woman with a face crinkled more by laughter lines than wrinkles. "Yes parzapes patrastvum e asel ayn: khndrum yem indz dataran dzer dstery, tikin." I'm just going to say it: please allow me to court your daughter, madam.

The woman's features softened as she beheld him, and she rushed forward, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. "Yes. You date Milena. Good. She like you." she said in broken English. "Your Armenian is very good."

Draco breathed out in relief. "So is your English, madam."

"Thank you. Milena speak better. I speak only little."

"How is she?" he asked concernedly

"She feels good. You save her. She love you."

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Vardanyan. For everything."

Behind her mother stood a small girl with full lips and brown eyes. Her hair was dark and long, and unlike most girls she had a strong yet narrow nose. She was dressed in an exquisite Persian dress, a flat circular hat of intricate nature sitting upon her flowing locks. She was beautiful.

"Milena ... you're stunning."

"Thank you Draco. Shall we go?"

"But of course."

He extended his arm and strode towards the nearest restaurant, which happened to be Armenian. "Perfect."


	23. Chapter 23

"Draco, thank you for a lovely evening." Milena said after their dinner.

"Oh, but it isn't over yet." Draco swooped his arm around her and clicked his fingers. Before them appeared an old piano upon which a small velvet box was placed.

The piano wood was dark, and the keys were of ivory and jet, aligned to suit the musician exquisitely. The box was palatinate purple, and felt soft to the touch, almost like a posh carpet.

Draco lifted the box off the piano, and handed it to Milena. With tremorring hands, she opened it. Inside lay a pair of earrings. They featured a silver heart and pear drop encrusted with sparkling clear crystals, displaying a sort of subtle glamour.

Then, the young Malfoy raised the cover of the piano and presented her with another box, green this time. On the interior was a royal blue sapphire in a four claw setting, surrounded by a diamond halo and set in eighteen carat white gold, suspended from a dazzling amethyst chain.

Her hands shaking, she removed her Armenian pearl earrings and replaced them with a little help from Draco. Once the crystal jewels were in her ears, she turned around so her date could apply the necklace around her neck. Once it was clipped together, Milena pivoted gracefully and embraced the blond, pecking his cheek lovingly before rushing home as a blush started to develop in her own, darker ones.

As he watched her leave, Draco sighed contentedly and leant back in a restaurant chair. "This is the life," he told himself, a goofy grin on his face. "This is the life."

* * *

"Harry! Well played, kid." Sirius engulfed his adopted son in a hug, joined swiftly by Remus.

"Yeah," Remus' voice was muffled by the eight year old's shoulder. "You were great!"

Harry broke away from them to avoid being crushed. "Thanks. I just hope the next match goes as well as this one did."

Intrigued, Sirius asked, "Who is it against? Another small team or a bigger one?"

He pursed his lips before answering. "We're up against Russia. They're quite good - I mean, they only narrowly missed out on third place at the European Championships last year to Germany, and everyone knows how good they are. They're strong, physical, not afraid to take a few hits, and they like to play aggressively, which puts their opponents on the back foot nine times out of ten. I just hope we'll be in the tenth of the teams that can win when we play them."

"Hmm," muttered Remus thoughtfully. "I've got something for you, Harry."

"What is it?" Harry asked excitedly. "Is it ice cream?"

"No," he replied. "It's not ice cream; it's better than ice cream."

Harry ran the idea through his head for a couple of second before protesting indignantly, "There's nothing better than ice cream!"

"True," Sirius chuckled. "But it's as close as you'll get today."

With those words, he handed Harry a triangular package. The kid ripped off the wrapping at their encouragement, and was greeted by the sight of an elegant maple, spruce and ebony piece of hollow woodwork, curved like a woman's body and with four tightly spread, impossibly thin strings of acromantula silk stretched from the long, carved neck to the center of the body. It was a violin. But it wasn't any old violin. It was 'The Antonius', created by Antonio Stradivari in 1711, only 26 years before his death - it was unique, one of a kind ... special. Next to it was a dense, reddish-orange violin bow made of Brazilian pernambuco wood and Abada hair (a small but sturdy unicorn from the Congo).

He extended his hand in disbelief, and gently caressed the smooth workmanship of the Italian luthier, picking up the instrument. Softly, he stroked the bow along its strings, drawing out a long, mellow note. A sweet voice of eloquent splendor emerged from it, like a flower blooming on a rainy day. The music was sweet but sad, and echoed through the empty air like the breath of a god. It hung in the air briefly, then was replaced by another, forming a beautiful tune.

With a jolt, Sirius recognised the piece as Phuong Medley's Green Pastures, and tears welled up in his eyes as memories flooded his mind. He and Remus had listened to it at a funeral. Marlene McKinnon's funeral. She had been his friend, more so than Lily, and was on par with the Marauders in times of old. She had been murdered in 1981, just a week before Voldemort's downfall. She had been a very powerful witch, both magically and mentally.

They had been engaged to marry ever since the final day of their schooling at Hogwarts, but he'd never managed to find the time to sit down and plan a date for the wedding. He remembered the words he had written on her tombstone - _I, Sirius Black, take you Marlene McKinnon, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part. I will always love you.  
_

Beside him was a crying Remus, his eyes puffy and his lip trembling. He too, remembered Marlene, but he mourned not for her, but for her sister. She had been his amour, his confidant, his friend in time of need. They were infatuated with each other, but she had been torn away from him in an instant. He swore from that day to avenge her, to love her even in death, and never to forget her. As he listened to Harry's piece, he could feel the touch of her silky blond hair, and the kiss of her lips.

Since her death, he had unofficially accounted for the arrests of her torturers, her murderers, her ... despoilers. When he had found them, he had made sure they could never do that to anyone ever again. They had bled incessantly from excruciating wounds, but they could never feel the amount of hurt and regret as he did then.

The portraits hanging from the walls around them sobbed, each of them reminded of their own sorrows. Into the room stepped a woman, with greying blonde hair and milky white eyes. Her face was crumpled with age and depression, and she wept silently in her heart. Her robes were black like a widow's, and black gloves covered her hands, a thin veil hanging from her hat and partially sheltering her aged features. A lone tear rolled down her sunken jowl as she grieved.

As the music finally died away, she stopped, and clapped. It was a slow, desolate clap, and all attention was drawn to her. She took a deep breath to steady herself after such a rousing theme, and spoke. "Harold, that was the most soulful melody I have ever heard in the seventy years of my life. Never before have I heard such a pièce; it was lyrical; it was emotional ... it was wonderful."

"Who are you?" Harry asked of the unknown woman.

"I am your great-aunt, the last pure daughter of the House of Black, since Narcissa married into the Malfoy family. I am also your ... father's," she acknowledged grudgingly. "Great-aunt. I am the daughter of Cygnus Black - son of Phineas Nigellus Black. I am the sister of Dorea Potter, your grandmother. I am Cassiopeia Black, your educator and tutor."

"What do you mean, 'my tutor'?" he faced his adopted parents. "Padfoot? Moony? What's going on?"

Sirius suspired. "Harry, I know you're loving Quidditch, and the politics - being able to be your own person - but you need an education. I can't just let you walk into Hogwarts without knowing magic. You need to be taught, and the best person for that is indeed our great-aunt Cassiopeia."

"And what if I already know magic? Eh?" Harry challenged. "What then?"

The canine animagus paused. "Name and describe me fourteen spells beginning with the letter 'A'." Cassiopeia broke in.

"Avis, the bird-conjuring spell; Alohomora, the unlocking spell; Aresto Momentum, the velocity decreasing spell; Arania Exumai, to knock aside arachnids; Anapneo, for clearing blocked airways; Aparecium, the revealing charm; Anteoculatia, turns hair into antlers; Aqua Eructo, more powerful version of Aguamenti, the water-making spell; Alarte Ascendare, which shoots the target high into the air; Accio, the summoning charm; Ascendio, lifts the caster into the air; Avifors, transforms the target into a bird," he rattled off subconsciously, tailing off towards the end and sinking into a whisper on the last spell. "And Avada Kedavra ... the killing curse."

"Two uses of Dragon blood?"

"Oven cleaner and spot remover." Harry stated.

"What about the origin of magic?" the stern woman questioned strictly.

Harry frowned. "That depends on the type of magic."

"Celtic!" she snapped.

"Celtic witchcraft has as its basis a strong sense of spirituality and a love of the earth. Central to this love are the Goddesses and Gids, who play a strong role in Celtic worship. The Celtic religion recognises two main deities; the Earth Mother Goddess and the Horned God. But Celtic Wiccans also worship many other minor deities who each represent specific qualities important to Celtic individuals. Celtic worshippers celebrate the same Sabbaths, perform rituals and magic, and have a strong faith in their spirituality, just like any member of the Craft.

The main differences between Celtic witchcraft and other forms of the Craft is that with Celts, magic is everywhere. Magic is woven into their jewellery, their tattoos and all their artwork and everyday items such as clothing and cutlery. The Druids are the religious ad magical leaders of the Celtic people, the wise and magical priests and priestesses whose special blend of wisdom and magic provided a powerful role model for all the Celtic people. The Druidic priesthood was originally all-female, which male initiates only becoming accepted after many years." he recited.

"Seidr."

"Seidr (pronounced "SAY-der;" Old Norse seiðr, 'cord, string, snare') is a form of pre-Christian Norse magic and shamanism concerned with discerning and altering the course of destiny by re-weaving part of destiny's web. To do this, the practitioner, with ritual distaff in hand, enters a trance (which could be accomplished through numerous means) and travels in spirit throughout the Nine Worlds accomplishing his or her intended task. This generally takes the form of a prophecy, a blessing, or a curse."

"Greek."

"Magic in ancient Greece consisted of beliefs, cult practices and rituals and that were not entirely sanctioned by society in general. However magic such as amulets, love potions, even a hat that renders the wearer invisible, is used in countless Greek myths. The wealth of evidence available also demonstrates that magic included love spells, curses, charms, amulets, conjuring, and illusions. Magic was not exactly a part of mainstream religious practices, being more of a sub-culture, but it was a force relied on by people of all aspects of society who sought a degree of control over certain situations or people.

Of course magic and religion were not necessarily regarded as entirely separate phenomena. The Goddess Hecate became the patron goddess of magic, which exemplifies how closely entwined magic and religion truly were. Magic appealed to the supernatural or divine, and unlike most aspects of Greek religion, which were for usually for socially constructive and collective ends, magic was for more unofficial and personal purposes. Religion was more supplicatory in its attitude to supernormal powers whose aid they harnessed, whereas magic could be seen to be a more aggressive method of harnessing the power of the Gods. The magical practices and beliefs of the Greeks were deeply influenced by the Ancient Egyptians, Babylonians and Assyrians, Hebrews and Phoenicians.

Pliny the Elder condemns magic as an undesirable importation from the East, and damns its exponents as charlatans. He describes it as uanitas or 'mere nothingness' Yet in his natural history he gives magic a good deal of space and admits the existence of magical powers- in animals, plants and people. Earliest mentions of magic and in particular the clear idea of a 'drug' in Greek literature are found in The Odyssey. The Odyssey also contains the first references in Greek literature to a sorceress- Circe. Odysseus and his men encounter Circe, who slips a pharmaka - meaning a magical concoction - into the men's drinks, and then touches them with her staff, turning them into several myths the sorceress Medea, Circe's niece, also uses pharmaka to rejuvenate and bring the dead back to life, although most of her magic was considered to be negative."

"What about Black Magic?"

"The Dark Arts have been given a bad reputation mostly because of its name. Most people infer 'Dark' to mean evil and unholy. This is a big misconception, the Necronomicon (also called Necromancy) relies primarily on the powers of the Moon, stars, and entities of the night such as passion, dreams, and winds. Black Magic is used best with those who are passionate and faithful in their cause. The more determined a person is the better the result.

The difference between White and Black Magic is that White Magic is more subtle and is powered through the Sun and entities of the day. Black Magic can bring drastic changes in one's life, so drastic in fact many earlier practitioners were persecuted. Saying it was the work of the devil is simply untrue, but has made finding a reputable caster extremely difficult, as earlier generations of casters practiced in secret with great risks. Black Magic is just another vehicle in the journey to our goals, but like a horse to walking, it's just faster and more productive."

"Egyptian?"

"To the peoples of antiquity Egypt appeared as the very mother of magic. In the mysterious Nile country they found a magical system much more highly developed than any within their native knowledge, and the cult of the dead - with which Egyptian religion was so strongly identified - appeared to the foreigner to savour magical practice. If the materials of the magical papyri be omitted, the accounts which we possess of Egyptian magic are almost wholly foreign, so that it is wiser to derive our data concerning it from the original native sources if we desire to arrive at a proper understanding of Egyptian sorcery.

Most of what has been written by Egyptologists on the subject of Egyptian magic has been penned on the assumption that magic is either merely a degraded form of religion, or its foundation. This is one of the results of the archaeologists entering a domain - that of anthropology - where they are usually rather at a loss."

Cassiopeia nodded, satisfied. The next one, she hoped would catch him off guard. "What do you know of ... blood magic?"

"Blood magic is the act of using blood as a tool when making a protection amulet, performing a ritual, casting a spell, binding, hexing or cursing. The major problem with the use of blood in magic rituals is that it was almost always used in excessive amounts, and was inevitably taken from unwilling participants. Blood is astonishingly powerful stuff, and it seems that early pagan priests must have operated on the 'If a little is good, a lot is better' theory.

They were wrong. Blood, when used with the appropriate words, rituals, herbs and the correct phase of the moon, undoubtedly did add quite a bit of horsepower to the proceedings, but if taken under protest from an unwilling victim the results could be similar to an extremely powerful stallion out of control at high speeds - it may go where the rider wants it to, and then again it may fly off and do a tremendous amount of damage before stopping."

"How do you know this?" Sirius asked, both impressed and a little intimidated.

"Am I not a member of the House of Black? Was I not a member of the House of Potter?" Harry began cynically. "The Potter library is huge, and I had almost unlimited access to it. Just because there's a Restricted Section, there doesn't have to be a ban against going in! Certainly not when unaccompanied. There must be over a hundred texts all relating to the uses of blood in rituals and magic."

He respired deeply before continuing. "However, that doesn't mean I know everything. I've got all of the theory down, but I still need help in the practical work. After all, I've never actually cast a spell. I've used magic, but never cast. I'm pretty good at most subjects, but I'm rubbish at Divination. In other words, I do need your help, Lady Cassiopeia, and I'd be delighted to have you teach me." he concluded, bowing his head slightly.

"Good. We might as well start now, Harold."

She told the others to leave, and was left alone with Harry. "First of all, I need to know your strong points and weak points. What's your favourite lesson?"

"Charms." he replied without hesitation.

"Least favourite?"

"Divination. It's the bane of my life, I tell you." the boy grouched.

"Okay. What texts have you read on the subject of Charms?"

She didn't expect much from him, he was only eight, so she was pleasantly surprised.

" _The Standard Book of Spells, Grades 1-3_  and I'm starting on  _4_ ;  _Quintessence: A Quest_ ;  _Achievements in Charming, and Extreme Incantations_. I've also read the _Potter Charms_  book by Charlus Potter,  _A Collection of Spells_ ,  _Charming People_ ,  _Animal Charmers_ ,  _How Charming_ ,  _The Spellbook of Charms_ , and the  _Encyclopedia of Charms and Charm-Related Spells_ , not to mention countless books I can't name straight away. As such, I know the theory behind most, if not all the spells in the Charms syllabus at Hogwarts for the first three to four years."

She shook herself quickly. "How about Transfiguration? If I recall correctly, your birth family was rather adept at that class."

Harry shrugged. "Meh.  _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ ; _Intermediate Transfiguration_ ;  _Animagus Transformations_ ; _An Advanced Guide to Transfiguration_ ; _The Blackest of Changes_ ;  _A Guide to Vanishment, Conjuration, Transformation and Distransfiguration_ , and a bunch of others."

"Stand." the woman commanded. He did as he was told. "Draw your wand."

"Which wand?"

"How many have you got?"

"Two."

"Whichever you like best." she said indifferently.

"Could you tell me what we're doing, so I would be able to choose? They're better for different things."

"I could. The question is whether I would, young man. But yes, you may know. We will be practicing your first year spells from all subjects."

Harry thought for a second. "Then I'll use both. That way, I can get used to how they feel and work."

She eyed him approvingly, before setting an ink pot before him. "I want you to levitate this to the ceiling. Watch out, it's full."

Harry concentrated. " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

The pot rose swiftly into the air, and he had to direct it carefully so as not to spill its contents. Once he had done, she told him to bring it down, then break it. More carefully this time, he cast. " _Descendo!_ "

When the pot was still, he sent a charm at it. " _Flipendo!_ "

It fell and broke, so Cassiopeia instructed him to repair it. " _Reparo._ "

On a whim, he summoned it into his hand once it was fixed.

"Ignite a fire, Harold. Then put it out."

He grinned. " _Incendio! Aguamenti._ " the water jet doused the strong flames after a little effort.

"Well done ... now, counter this -  _Nox!_ "

The room descended into darkness. It was pitch black, and Harry racked his brain for the light spell. " _Lumos!_ "

It took him several attempts, but soon enough light penetrated the depths of the gloom.

After a few more spells, they moved on to Transfiguration. A small book was quickly changed into a mouse, then back again, as was a match into a needle and vise versa.

They had covered the basics of most lessons, except the electives.

"Divination is useless unless you have the Sight. Few do, so I'm not going to try teaching you that pile of dragon-dung. Let's try the Study of Ancient Runes. What do you know so far?"

"Eihwaz means 'defence', Ehwaz means 'partnership'. Demiguise represents the number zero, a Unicorn's horn is one, Graphorn's dual horns are two, Runespoor is three, Fwooper is four, Quintaped legs is the number five, Salamander is six, seven is unknown, Acromantula eyes equal eight, and the Hydra is nine."

"Very good, young man. I think now we shall move on to the last subject tonight. Defence Against the Dark Arts. Arm yourself," she warned him brusquely. "For now ... we duel!"

Harry whipped out his rowan and hawthorn wand, and grabbed his staff.

" _Flipendo! Stupefy!_ "

He rolled sideways behind a chair, which Cassiopeia quickly blasted away, then jumped over a table that he sent flying towards her. She cast minor curses and jinxes at him, or rather, where she believed him to be. He had disappeared thanks to a hasty disillusionment charm - one of the most powerful ones in his arsenal - and a  _Muffliato_  spell. As she focused on his last location, he snuck up behind her and ... BANG!

His elderly tutor had thrown him across the room, body-bound him, then tied him up and silenced him. As she withdrew the enchantments, she looked at him appreciatively. "You did well, Harold. Although, if I were you, I would have cast a silencing or cushioning charm on my feet. I could hear your steps."

She left the room, after promising him that they would continue at a later date.

"Wicked!"


	24. Chapter 24

A week later, Harry and the gang were standing at the tunnel dressed in their Quidditch robes. They consisted of a red and white quartered tunic; white and black trousers; light finger-less gloves; brown leather shin, knee, shoulder, and elbow pads as well as gauntlets; and a red and white checked cloak. Each held in their hands a broom of great detail.

Beside them stood the Russian national team. The players were big and bulky, especially the Seeker. They wore black and heavy versions of the English kit, perfect for physical contact, something they excelled at.

The parents of the English squad rushed up to wish them luck, Molly immediately engulfing her twin sons in a bear hug. "My lovely boys," she blubbered proudly. "You'll be brilliant. I believe in you."

As she bustled her way out, the Russian Seeker - a tall, broad lad with a square jaw and broken nose named Vladislaw Avilov - grunted in mirth. "Disgrace to woman-kind. Chunky women are for cooking and chores, useless for anything. Then again," he gestured suggestively to his burly mates as they roared in laughter. "She have nice ... curves. Fun in bed, no?"

Fred's face turned crimson, and an ugly look took over his face. George was ready to kill. "What did you just say about my mother?" he threatened murderously. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

He pushed Vladislaw in the chest and sent him tumbling into the wall. The stunned Russian pushed himself back up, and narrowed his eyes. In an instant, Fred was splayed out on the floor, unconscious with blood spurting from a cut on his eyelid.

His brother coiled, ready for action, and sprung at the assailant, knocking him down. "Leave! My! Family! Alone!" he yelled angrily, punctuating each word with a blow to the boy's body. Soon enough though, he was dragged off by a pair of old Quidditch officials.

As he got to his feet, Avilov kicked out with a strong leg. "Filthy English pig! You are not worthy to lick my shoes!"

He too was restrained, and Harry groaned. In one move, they had lost both Beaters due to a few stupid words.

* * *

Coach Greengrass called them into a bunch. "Guys, we haven't even started and we're two men down. Davies, Smith - get your brooms. Go!" he turned to the rest of the group. "Longbottom," the man started uncomfortably. "I just can't take the risk. They're too big, and McLaggen's the stronger of you two. I'm sorry."

Neville unstrapped his head-guard and threw it to the ground in a fit of rage. He stormed off into the dressing rooms despondently when Cormac shouted at him. "Oi, Longbottom! Bet it sucks to be you right now!"

After berating him for lack of team work, the coach braced their guards for the match. "Get ready, lads. It won't be easy."

He didn't lie.

* * *

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Quidditch World Cup Qualification match between Russia and England! Here we are at the Vyborg Castle Stadium, and news has just been sent through of an incident in the tunnels, resulting in the temporary suspension of Fred and George Weasley, England's first choice Beaters for being involved in a fight with an unknown Russian player - who cannot be suspended for lack of evidence. As such, here are the line-ups!" an announcer with a thick handlebar moustache introduced.

"For Russia, I give you: Keeper Artem Pavlov! Beaters Ivan and Alexei Gobulev! Chasers Anastasia Belinsky, Yelena Goryunov and Sofia Datsishin! And lastly, Seeker and Captain  _Vladislaw Avilov_!"

Harry gritted his teeth as he heard the name. The smug ruskie took off after his colleagues. "Please give a big round of applause for the modified England team: Keeper Cormac McLaggen! Beaters Roger Davies and Zacharias Smith! Chaser and Captain Antonius Lupin-Black and fellow Chasers Adrian Pucey and Draco Malfoy! And ... Seeker  _Cedric Diggory_!"

The English team exited the tunnel to show off their new opening routine. McLaggen kept the speed slow and waved at the crowd, while the Roger and Zach held their bats in an 'X' shape. Harry, flanked by Draco and Adrian, performed a difficult flip on his broom, forming an 'O' with his legs in the air as he held a tough headstand. The other two dipped and dived below him, paths intertwining like a pair of snakes. Then it was Cedric. He waited until they were all out of distance, then put his head down and shot through the hole formed by Harry's legs, executing a front somersault on the exit. It was spectacular.

"Referee is Millie Gubadi from Australia. The match begins! Malfoy darts forward, but Belinsky blocks him and gains possession. She's flying at the hoops ... saved by McLaggen! He throws to Pucey, who gets swamped by Goryunov and Datsishin and loses the quaffle. Goryunov this time ... missed! Maybe that last second bludger from Smith put her off a bit."

"Lupin-Black, to Malfoy, to McLaggen, who boots it down towards Pucey - FOUL! Pavlov nearly took him out of the air there. Lupin-Black takes the penalty and scores! 10-0! Russia start off again quickly, and Pucey's the only one back save the Keeper. One-two from Belinsky and Datsishin, wait a minute! She lost the quaffle! Malfoy's stolen it, and he's going like a train ... GOAL! 20-0."

"Goryunov on the ball and she's put it past McLaggen for her country! 20-10. Pucey heads at her and gets walloped in the head by a huge fist! Malfoy to make it thirty from the penalty? Yes, 30-10!"

"30-20! This is a real tough match, and Belinsky's equalised! Thirty all."

* * *

An hour later, the game was still just as physical, and Draco was struggling to keep up with the power of the other players. Harry would have done too, but he had the sense to stay out of the way and only ever touch the quaffle, or just be there to capitalise on mistakes. "Oh, it looks like Malfoy's going off. And on comes Vaisey at 420-380 in favour of Russia _._ " the commentator screamed.

He thought quickly and frantically signalled for a timeout. As the group huddled in a circle, he spoke into a small mic. "G _uys, we're being shot to bits out there! Vaisey, Pucey - you're both strong, and I need you in defence. If you can, hold them off and get the ball to me. Then I'll see what I can do. Roger, Zach, keep on doing what you're doing. McLaggen, you need to stop showboating so much, okay?_ " Cedric was motioned to stay behind as the others flew off and Harry put away the voice projecting device. " _You've got to end this, Ced. It's carnage and I don't know how long we'll last. Just please, catch that bloody snitch._ "

"The timeout's over now, and they're off again. Vaisey tackles Datsishin while Pucey blocks Belinsky, and the ball drops to Lupin-Black, who's away! Goryunov tries to stop him, but he dodges her and pokes it in for another ten points, making it 420-390 for the Russians. Smith hits Belinsky with a superb Bludger Backbeat, and she fumbles the ball, which Pucey swiftly kicks to his captain, who executes a Wollongong Shimmy to evade the other Russian Chasers! A bludger goes towards him, with he avoids by use of the Sloth-Grip Roll and he chucks the quaffle skywards, scissor-kicking it through the far hoop and England trail by only twenty points!"

THUD! The sound echoed around the stadium as one of the small, black, iron balls impacted with McLaggen's skull. He jerked shakily, and toppled off his broom. Roger and Zach rushed to halt his momentum, then lowered him to the ground where he was treated by medics. In the meantime, Neville picked up his broom and came tearing onto the pitch, his heart pumping.

"That's a penalty against Russia for attacking the Keeper in his area! McLaggen is on the ground with the medi-wizards, and I don't think we'll be seeing him again as Neville Longbottom races up to the hoops to make the substitution. Vaisey this time with the shot ... he puts it past Pavlov to make it 400 for England!"

"Goryunov tests out Longbottom, who catches it easily. He throws it to Davies, who clobbers it with his bat - is that even legal? I guess it is!" the man said as play continued. "Pucey looks like he's going to receive it, but no, he's deflected it to Vaisey. COME ON REF! That's blurting if I ever saw it. Good, he's awarded a free shot at goal, which Vaisey takes advantage of to put England within ten points of their opponents!"

Suddenly, Cedric swooped. "He's seen the snitch, everyone! Diggory has seen the snitch!"

He plunged towards the ground at a fierce rate of speed. "It looks like it might just be a Wronski Feint!" the moustached speaker dismissed. By then, the wind would be too loud in the ears of the Seekers for them to hear his words. "Yep, sure enough, he pulls up at the last second. It didn't work, young Cedric!"

Avilov had taken off moodily at being tricked. Or so he thought.

Cedric flew casually over to the analyst. " _I think you'll find, Mr. Silvanus, that it did work_ ," he said patronisingly. " _You see, it wasn't a feint at all._ "

And with those words, he opened the palm of his clenched hand to reveal a walnut-sized golden-coloured sphere with silver wings attempting - to no avail - to escape his grasp. The embarrassed pundit stammered into his amplified megaphone. "D-D-Diggory's caught the snitch! The match is over, and England have won! What a close battle that was, it could have gone either way, but in the end it's 560-430, the English squad triumphant again."

The young boy shook his head as the team encompassed him as a jubilant unit.  _How ridiculous_.

* * *

Harry jogged after the coach. "Hey, Coach! We need to talk."

He caught up and pulled him into a deserted hallway, before losing his temper.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? MCLAGGEN IS THE MOST ARROGANT, COCKY, SELF-CENTERED, EGOTISTICAL PERSON TO EVER WALK THIS WORLD UNLESS WE'RE COUNTING THE VANITY OF APHRODITE!" he bellowed. "You saw how he acted out there! You gave him a chance to play and he threw it in our faces. He kept trying to impress the crowd, and I could hear him telling Roger and Zach how to do their jobs! Did you give him the Beater position? No, you didn't. Neville was, and is, better than any other keeper this country has to offer. Why can't you just accept that?"

Eventually, Harry calmed. "Sorry Coach. I've had an idea, and I'd like to know what you think about it."

After the rant, Greengrass noticed the kinder tone and forgave him. "Go ahead, kid."

"You saw how we got kicked about out there," he said. Cyrus nodded. Who hadn't? "Well, I've thought about a way to prevent that happening again."

"You have? That's been puzzling me since the end of the match."

"What do you know of the Muggle military?" the boy asked him.

"Not much," Greengrass responded.. "I barely know a thing."

"In that case, let me introduce you to a bit of history. Formed in the reign of King Charles II on October 28, 1664 as the Duke of York and Albany's Maritime Regiment of Foot (or Admiral's Regiment), the name Marines first appeared in the records in 1672 and in 1802 they were titled the Royal Marines by King George III. Since then, Marines have taken part in more battles on land and sea around the world than any other branch of the British Armed Forces; so numerous are the Corps' battle honours they are simply represented by the famous Globe and the single honour 'Gibraltar'. Today, the Royal Marines are the UK's Commando Forces and the Royal Navy's amphibious troops. An elite force held at very high readiness, they are trained for worldwide rapid response, able to deal with a wide spectrum of threats and security challenges."

"What's this got to do with us?"

"The Royal Marines training is considered the hardest and most physical training of any kind in the world. That's one of the reasons they've got such a great reputation. When the shit hits the fans, you call them in. Now, what I've got in mind involves something the muggles call a gymnasium, or gym. You see, to test the initial recruits, they set them a challenge." Harry explained. "To pass, they must complete two 1.5 mile runs on a treadmill (which is a running machine) set at an angle of 2 per cent. The first run must be done in under 12 minutes and 30 seconds, and the second must be under 10 minutes. There is also something called 'circuit training'."

"Circuit training is an excellent way to improve mobility, strength and stamina. The circuit training comprises of 6 to 10 strength exercises that are completed one exercise after another. Each exercise is performed for a specified number of repetitions or for a set time before moving on to the next exercise. The exercises within each circuit are separated by a short rest period, and each circuit is separated by a longer rest period. The total number of circuits performed during a training session may vary from two to six depending on your training objective."

"Don't go over-board though, or we'll be too tired out afterwards and require longer breaks. I don't mean for us to get as big and cumbersome as the Russians and the Germans, just strong enough to be able to hold out against them and rely on our reflexes for points."

The coach pondered for a moment. "But who'd do the training? We don't have anyone of that calibre here."

Harry just smirked. A man stepped out of the shadows. He was slightly above average height, with greying hair, bushy eyebrows and a thick pencil moustache. He was slightly stocky and had pronounced, but not bulging biceps, and wore a black and white camouflage shirt and trousers, with the sleeves rolled up. "Benedict Oberon, Royal Marines Commando (retired) at your service. I also happen to be a squib, if you were wondering."

* * *

Benedict Oberon stood in the middle of a room. It had a glossed wooden floor and white walls, with a series of exercise tools dotted around. Against the east wall were propped fourteen state-of-the-art, modern treadmills, already pre-set. Opposite them were mats for push-ups, sit-ups, planks, and hand to hand combat. On the north side were fourteen thick, heavy ropes suspended from the metal roof, and to the south lay over a dozen skipping ropes, rowing machines and boxing gloves.

Around him were a bunch of kids, all of them under twelve. One of them was his employer. He grinned evilly.  _This would be fun_.

"Right, listen up! My name is Mr. Oberon, but you won't be calling me that. You'll be calling me sir. Why? I'm your physical training instructor. But that's enough about me," he spoke clearly, without any distortion. "GET TO WORK! ALL OF YOU, TEN PUSH-UPS ON THE MATS!"

Terrified, they hurried to obey. Vaisey was done in about twenty-five seconds, as were Adrian and Montague but they all worked out regularly. Spinnet and Higgs did them in thirty, McLaggen in forty.

However, Fred and George only managed five each before collapsing. Cedric, Zach and Roger managed to do it just under a minute, with some difficulty. Draco bottomed out after three, having been brought up as a typical pureblood. Then, it was Harry and Neville. Together, they squeezed them out, and half-way through, Harry's shoulder began to really ache, but he pushed through the pain. Looking to his left, he saw Neville struggling with his seventh, and offered him words of encouragement. After slightly over 70 seconds, they were done. They stood sweating, their faces red and their cheeks puffing.

"What the hell was that? Do you think that's good? Do you think that's acceptable?" Oberon said, his voice dangerously low.

"No, sir." Harry groaned.

"Good. Now, all who managed the ten, will do them again. Those who didn't," he looked at the Weasleys and Draco. "Will do twenty. GO!"

Harry dropped to the ground, and lowered his body to the floor, when he felt a small weight hit his back. It was a couple of small beanbags. They weren't much, but the increased mass made it even more tricky for him. He pushed himself back up, then repeated. Once he had finished, he surveyed the carnage around him.

Adrian, Vaisey, Higgs, Montague and Spinnet were standing to the side, already done. Ced and Roger were on their last push ups when his attention was drawn to Draco. He was being berated by Oberon for his poor technique, and his face was blood red. This time, he'd succeeded in doing eleven. The Weasley twins had done all of them.

"Right, let's move on to the next apparatus: the treadmills. How many of you know how to use them?"

Only Harry raised his hand. Oberon looked disappointed, before calling on him to demonstrate. "Normally, we'd have to set the distance, speed and angle, but that's already been done, so just step on and press the start button." he indicated.

"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GO!"

They set off at the same time. Knowing the distance, Harry jogged slowly, and the majority copied him. Only McLaggen didn't. Instead, he tried to sprint the whole distance.  _What an idiot_.

At five hundred metres, the prat ran out of breath and fell off, earning him a severe reprimand and fifty push ups.

After a thousand metres in eight minutes, Harry's legs started to tire. He kept running, as did everyone else. Fifteen minutes later, he was perspiring heavily, and crimson like the devil, his legs feeling like lead. "SPRINT FINISH EVERYBODY! GO, GO, GO!"

Harry urged himself to go quicker and quicker, grimacing in pain. He was huffing like his lungs were coming out of his mouth, and as he tried to stand steady, his thighs and calves wobbled like jelly.

"Better than some, I suppose. Well done, all of you. Apart from you McLaggen, everyone did a good job, and you've earned yourselves a quarter-hour break." the ex Marine turned to Cormac. "You, boyo, are going to be doing what you were supposed to do there. Go!"

* * *

"Rowing machines, everybody! Fifteen minutes then stop, okay?"

Harry raced to the nearest one and pulled the cord as hard as he could, gradually letting it recede again. He carried on until he was an absolute wreck and the time was up. He rolled off awkwardly and pushed himself to his feet with a loud moan.

Oberon set down a crate of water bottles. "All of you, grab a drink! Water, nothing else." he ordered. "You'll need it. Time up, get to your positions."

They got into pairs by the boxing gloves. "This exercise will help give you more aggression in matches. One of you, pick up the gloves, the other gets the pads."

Neville grabbed the huge gloves and slid them onto his fist as Harry jammed his pads on.

"The one with the gloves does the punching. Remember, aim for the pads!"

THUD! SMACK! BANG!

A minute later, Harry's hands had been pummeled by his partner. He was surprisingly good at throwing punches.

They swapped positions and Harry's fist impacted on a yellow pad with a loud THWACK! Neville withdrew his hand for a second, and Harry hit the other with an obvious sound. The Longbottom heir shook his wrists and prepared for another bout.  _This would be hell_ , he told himself.

"That's enough! Lupin-Black, I said stop!"

Harry swivelled his head. He hadn't even heard him.

"Skipping ropes everyone. I want fifty skips from each of you!"

 _Whip_ ,  _whip_ ,  _whip_ ,  _whip_  went the rope as he launched himself over as it swung below his feet. He jumped once between each counted skip, and developed a smooth rhythm. Harry was done in slightly over forty seconds, due to his remarkably quick feet. That had come after using them to correct the smallest of errors he made on his broom.

A whistle was blown sharply. "That'll do for today, well done everybody! I expect you all to work on your upper body strength and endurance, but that was pretty good. If I were you, I'd get something to eat." the instructor said, handing out little sachets.

Draco opened one and swallowed the contents. "Yuck! That tastes horrible!" he shouted, gurning and puckering his lips in distaste.

"Get used to it, kid. It's full of protein, which will help you build muscle mass - something you are in need of."

Harry opened the double doors, followed by his team-mates. They were soon accosted by Coach Greengrass. "Who's up for another training session, then?"

They all looked horrified.

"Hey, it's only a joke, guys! Calm down. I wouldn't do something like that," he claimed. "Or would I?"


	25. Chapter 25

"Welcome, damas y caballeros, to the Palacio de Cortès in Mexico. Today, we have England versus the home side, Mexico! This match should be a cracker. Without any delay, let me introduce the English team: Keeper Neville Longbottom returns to the first squad, as do Beaters Fred and George Weasley from their one match suspension! Chasers Draco Malfoy, Adrian Pucey and Captain Antonius Lupin-Black look to carry their fantastic form into this game! And the Seeker  _Cedric Diggory_ will be looking for his third catch in a row!"

"Mexico: Keeper and Captain Santiago Martínez! Beaters Juan García and Jesús Hernandez! Chasers Alejandro López, Pedro Ramírez and Carlos Rodríguez! Finally, Seeker  _José Luis González_!"

"Our referee is Jacqueline Lejeune from France. Begin! Malfoy takes the ball and rushes towards the hoops ... he scores! 10-0! Hernandez hits a bludger at the English Seeker as Rodríguez gets the quaffle - he's been tackled by Pucey, who passes to Lupin-Black - GOAL! 20-0."

"López goes solo, but it's saved by Longbottom, and he throws it towards Weasley! He swings his bat and Pucey just needs to connect ... he does, to make it 30-0! Pucey again in possession, passed to Malfoy ... he pokes it in, and Lupin-Black kicks it back to Pucey for another! 50-0!"

"Weasley sends a bludger at González, and he's almost knocked off his broom from the impact! Diggory's spotted the snitch, he's like a hawk up there! He puts his head down, and the speed increases ... oh, he corkscrews between the Chasers just as Lupin-Black scores - and he's caught it! England win again, third time in a row! 210-0! Well done boys."

* * *

In the interview room, the team gathered around the microphones.

"John Guy, working for Which? Broomstick. What information can you reveal to us about your new brooms?"

Harry pulled a face. "All the information we can reveal is that they are the best we've ever used. They outpace the Cleansweep Fives, outmanoeuvre the Comet Two Sixties quite easily, and they're very resilient. Personally, I love them."

"How do you rate your chances of qualification for the World Cup?" a portly, well-tanned middle-aged man asked.

"We'll do it. We need to win the next couple of matches, and then we can relax a bit. I predict that Russia come second in the group, with us top and Scotland third." he replied.

The next question came from Rita Skeeter, the ghastly looking reporter. How he hated her! "Any news about your relationship with Ms. Vardanyan, Mr. Malfoy?"

The blond's eyes narrowed. "What goes on between myself and Milena is none of your business. That is private, do you understand?"

She recoiled upon hearing the venom in his voice.

Someone at the back cleared their throat noisily. "How, and why did you capture the snitch so early in the game, Mr. Diggory? You could have gained more points for the country."

Cedric raised his brows derisively. "The weather out there was insane, and I was struggling with the heat - I assume the others were too."

They nodded as he continued sarcastically. "I got that flipping ball the same way anyone would; I caught it. But to properly answer your query, I tried to get it over with as soon as I could, or we would have gone down from dehydration after an hour. I watched the snitch from the start, and found myself close enough to it not too long after, so I went for it."

"Do you have any plans in regard to fitness of your team, Coach Greengrass?"

The gentleman answered quickly. "We are currently undergoing fitness training from a very reliable tutor and are taking an incredibly tough exercise course to get up to scratch physically."

"Would that be old 'Bulldog' McCain, then?"

"Oh, this man is much, much harder and expectant. He is a Squib, and one of the fittest men I have ever met, even though he's about fifty. He served in the Muggle Royal Navy - which deals with naval battles and patrols of our shores, amongst other things - for approximately four decades. That is all that I am able to disclose at this point. Interview concluded."

* * *

Harry lowered himself achingly onto the comfortable dark leather sofa a couple of hours later and reached thoughtfully for a scroll of parchment, summoning a majestic eagle feather quill and a cut glass ink pot. He dipped it lightly in the swirly black liquid and hovered the tip over the parchment. Hesitantly, he began writing in a beautiful, fluid script.

_Dear Lord Potter,_

_I write to you on behalf of my ever confused conscience. The House of Emrys cordially invites yourself and two guests of your choice to dinner in the hall of our ancestors, Fort Caerleon. Please do not think I write mockingly - my words are sincere._

_You've been fighting for all your life, you've been struggling to make things right, you've been working every day and night against an evil so inconceivable ... until four years ago. I'm deeply sorry for my behaviour towards the House of Potter. My apology will only go so far in the attempt to earn your forgiveness for my sickening attitude and demeanour, I know. But please, consider it._

_Yours most wholeheartedly and atoningly,_

_Antonius Balendin Aristides Lupin-Black,  
Lord Emrys_

Steps echoed through the corridor as his great-aunt Cassiopeia stalked regally into the room. He pulled a black envelope towards him and licked the lip slightly before folding the letter, slipping it carefully inside and sealing it. A raven flew into the room, and Harry tentatively attached the letter to one of its sharp talons. "Fly well, my feathured friend." he bade, just when a thought struck him. "Quoth the raven, nevermore."

 


	26. Chapter 26

_The bloody cheek! Antonius Lupin-Black - Supreme Arse, Extreme Idiot, blah blah blah - had the nerve to try and patch it up with me! Why?_  James asked himself mentally.  _What purpose could this possibly serve him?_

He had just received a very poshly written letter from the snotty pureblood kid, inviting him and two others to dinner at one of the many castles their beloved Indi had been supposed to inherit.

Fortunately, as he sat in his office, James' mind wondered to politics. If he openly rejected the invitation, then the House of Potter could be seen as disrespectful to the superior House of Emrys and would possibly enter a Political Feud, if not a Blood Feud. That would devastate them utterly, as their own allies would be forced to turn against them, and all the members of each House that Lord Emrys controlled would join him against the Potters. So, it was with great care and consideration that James wrote the reply.

_Dear Lord Emrys,_

_The House of Potter wishes to accept your most gracious invitation. We thank you for the opportunity to speak with you, face to face, without the presence of the press, and can barely wait for this evening to come._

_Your apology is unnecessary and unneeded. It is us who have wronged you, my Lord._

_Yours politely and sincerely,_

_James Charlus Potter,  
Lord Potter_

His son's snowy owl came over and extended its leg, to which he attached the answer, before it promptly flew away.

* * *

"Get moving, kids!" Mr. Oberon shouted at them the instant they walked through the door. "I want all of you to climb those ropes. You've got two minutes - go!"

The boys and Alicia ran over to the natural fiber Manila, 1¾ inch diameter ropes and started to climb. Harry wrapped his legs around it and pushed upwards, reaching skywards and pulling with his shoulders and hands. The others copied him, even McLaggen, who had learned not to get on the wrong side of their fitness coach.

"One ... two ... three," he grunted just before reaching the top. Draco had slid partway down, resulting in red, burned palms and a telling off from Oberon.

"Get down, everyone! Time for hand to hand combat. Now, it's unlikely you'll ever be against someone your own size, so I'm deciding who is paired with who. First up - Vaisey vs. Longbottom! Go!"

Neville looked nervous, and stepped up to the plate anxiously. Vaisey threw a punch, which Neville managed to dodge, grabbing his wrist and swinging him over, tripping him at the last moment. He jumped up, and smacked him in the nose, holding him in a tight headlock.

"Well done, Longbottom! Next!"

Harry groaned.

* * *

A knock was heard on the door, swiftly followed by another, then another. A tired Sirius got awkwardly to his feet and opened it by the gold handle, revealing a face he had thought long dead.

A pretty visage was framed by shoulder-length flowing brown locks, with thin eyebrows, thick lashes and plump lips. The nose was slender and well proportioned, the cheekbones high and proud ... but the most prominent feature were the eyes. They were various shades of incandescent striking white-blue, blue like the sea, crystal clear - so captivating he swore that he could just dive into them, the peak of awe nipping at his facial features.

He sank slowly to his knees. It was ... "Marlene. Marlene McKinnon."

She smiled beautifully, her teeth whiter than snow. " _Black_ , Sirius. Marlene  _Black_."

* * *

Green flames burst from the fireplace and Remus stepped into the room. His wards had alerted him to the presence of an uninvited guest in his secret house, where he went during the transformations every full moon. Very few people knew about it.

He pulled out his wand and advanced warily into the room. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement, and he swivelled with deceptive speed, pointing at the trespasser.

"Step out with your hands where I can see them! Now!"

They took a tentative pace forwards. They were average height, wearing a long black cloak with a low hood that obscured most of the intruder.

"Drop the hood!"

Small, delicate hands were raised to the head, and lowered the cowl from waist-long blonde curls. "Hello, Remus."

He gasped. "Cecilia?"


	27. Chapter 27

"20 star jumps, starting now - come on you maggots, move it!"

Footsteps echoed through the gymnasium as a dozen tough hobnailed pairs of shoes hit the polished floor. A group of smartly-dressed, professional-looking businessmen stood barely ten feet away.

"Excuse me, Mr Oberon, but this is tremendously important. Training can be resumed soon." said Cygnus as he pushed his way to the front. "Lads and ladies, let me introduce you to some very important people ... British and Irish Quidditch League contractors."

Awestruck jaws dropped, and Harry expressed what everyone was thinking. "Bloody hell!"

* * *

The woman bent down and gently caressed the man's face. "Oh Sirius ... I had to. I'm so sorry."

He turned his face upwards, tears rolling down his cheeks. "How? Just how? I've thought you were dead! Eight years! Eight years I've believed that you died that night! I loved you, buried you, grieved for you - and now you're here." Sirius bit his lip until he drew blood. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!" he roared.

Marlene recoiled in shock and horror. "I've always been there Sirius. I'm not the one who ABANDONED THE PERSON THEY TOOK AS THEIR LAWFUL PARTNER IN LIFE! You knew where I was - don't deny it - and you could have seen me at any time." she spat angrily. "How could you not come to me? Do you-"

She took a deep gulp and continued in a trembling voice, "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Not love you," he began in a dangerously low voice. "HOW COULD I NOT LOVE YOU?! I WENT TO YOUR FUNERAL, I CARVED THE HEADSTONE, I CRIED FOR MONTHS THINKING YOU WERE DEAD! IF I'D KNOWN WHERE YOU WERE DON'T YOU THINK I'D HAVE COME LOOKING FOR YOU?"

He smashed his fist against the wall, leaving knuckle-shaped holes in the plaster. "How was I supposed to know where you were, Marlene? How?"

"Dumbledore said-"

A fire lit up in Sirius' eyes. He wanted revenge. "Dumbledore?"

* * *

"Mr Lupin-Black, I believe that, as you are the most contested, you should be taken care of last. So, we might as well lay out the documents and offers." the main speaker said, opening a smart business briefcase and revealing several folders. "I represent the Ballycastle Bats, and we have contracts here for Mr Cormac John McClaggen, Mr Terrence Clarke Higgs and Miss Alicia Denise Spinnet. The offer is thus: 56 galleons per match, with a 14 galleon win bonus for one season. What do you say?"

"Oh yes, baby! Professional British Quidditch, here I come!" Cormac whooped arrogantly.

Terrence reached for the offered quill and signed first, swiftly followed by Alicia and the overzealous McClaggen.

Another man stepped forward, wearing an emerald green tie with double golden 'K's. "I'm here for the Kenmare Kestrels. We have watched for quite a while, and we've decided to offer both Mr Vaisey and Mr Montague a season-long place among our squad for 39 galleons per match with an 11 galleon bonus."

The pair signed on the dotted line.

"Dan Purk, from the Appleby Arrows - we'd like to sign Mr Roger Davies on a two-year contract of 75 galleons per game, 100 per win."

Roger followed suit of the others.

"Bob Carson, I work for the Chudley Cannons. Our eye has been caught by the young Mr Weasleys. We don't have great funds, but we suggest a season-long term at 48 galleons, 68 for wins."

"Puddlemere United would like to sign Mr Cedric Diggory, Mr Neville Longbottom, and Mr Adrian Pucey on a one year term with a wage of 73 galleons with a 12 galleon bonus."

"Falmouth Falcons wish the acceptance of Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy on a one year basis for 67 galleons, 90 for each victory."

The original talker stepped forward again. "Now, Mr Lupin-Black, for the real decision ..."

* * *

"Cecilia. Where have you been? I thought you were dead!" Remus said frantically, hugging her tightly. "How can you still be alive? I went to your funeral!"

"I thought you knew. Dumbledore told me he would tell you!" she hollered.

The werewolf turned to face her, anger in his eyes. "He lied."

* * *

"The following clubs wish to offer you 75 galleon, 100 per win contracts, Mr Lupin-Black: Ballycastle Bats, Appleby Arrows, Falmouth Falcons, Puddlemere United, Chudley Cannons, Pride of Portree, Tutshill Tornados and the Wigtown Wanderers - I reckon even the Holyhead Harpies want you!"

Harry chuckled, a little gobsmacked. "Unfortunately, the team I would most like to sign for is not on that list, so that is not an option. Roger here supports Pride of Portree, so that's out of the picture. The Falcons are just the opposite of my playing style, so that's a no. Out of the others, I suppose the team who's offer I'd like to accept most is ... the Appleby Arrows."

He took a quill, dipped it in ink and pulled the team's contract towards him. Steadily, his hand shaking lightly, he signed it.

The Appleby Arrows representative's eyes twinkled gleefully. "You've made the right choice, Mr Lupin-Black."

"I do hope so," he answered anxiously. "I really hope so."

* * *

After the conference, training didn't quite resume as normal. "Kids, I'd like to introduce you to your new individual coaches. You will work with each and every one of them, but only for a month. Okay? Good."

Oberon motioned towards the door, and fourteen men stepped in. They were an eclectic mix, but they all had one thing in common - they were military, they were disciplined, they were tough.

"Firstly, I'll introduce you to them." he shouted, gesturing at the first man. He was average height, wearing baggy desert camouflage clothes and a sand-beige beret with a winged sword bearing the words 'Who Dares Wins'. "This is Corporal Joe Smith of the British Special Air Service. The British SAS follow the sea, air and land training of the SEALs; however their training in counter-espionage is more in-depth and complex than the SEALs. Both the SAS and SEALs receive comparable training as they sometimes work closely. They are trained in numerous fighting techniques and remain the primary model in which most national commando units are based."

"Next," he said, pointing to another. "We have Sergeant Bob Jones of the US Navy Seals - the team was created in October of 1980 after a failed attempt in 1979 to rescue American hostages being held in Iran. As a result, the US Navy recognized the imminent need for a specially trained counter terrorist team. SEAL Team 6 consists of four line squadrons – Red, Blue, Gold and Silver. The men within these units are the elite of the elite of special op forces and are trained on Sea, air and land, making them a well-rounded, highly trained group of individuals."

He was wearing standard camouflage clothing with only one distinguishing feature - the face paint he used to obscure his identity.

"After that we have Commander Ali Akhbad from the Israeli Shayetet 13: this Special Ops group shares the Israeli Army motto: 'Never Again', referring to the Holocaust. Though they are one of three special units, the Shayetet 13 bears the closest resemblance to the US Army's Delta Force. They are specially trained for rescuing hostages and in counter-terrorism. Though they remain an extremely secretive group, the most public noted mission was Operation Spring of Youth. During this operation, the Shayetet 13 went into Beirut Lebanon where they hunted down and killed all the terrorists involved in the 1972 Munich massacre of 11 Israeli athletes." Oberon said, welcoming over a tall, muscular man in black combat clothes. His skin was tanned and worn from the sun.

A pale man with an almost bald head stepped forward, wearing a black bullet-proof vest and a black night-vision helmet. "This is Marek Grabowski. He is from the Polish GROM. Activated in July of 1980 in response to terrorist threats, GROM is one of five Special Ops units in Poland. They are trained to respond to a variety of threats and unconventional warfare roles. Their existence has not even been acknowledged by Poland."

"Sergeant Lukas Gruber, Austria Eko Cobra. This special ops tactical unit is involved mainly in counter-terrorism. The group retains a low profile, despite their high-speed involvement in the war on terror. In Europe, they are known for their competitive edge over other countries at S.W.A.T. and other competitions throughout Europe. Though their covert missions are carried out with little or no media, they are still considered by many as one of the best trained counter-terrorist units in the world." he singled out another man, wearing a maroon beret.

"Sergeant Bilal Ahmed of SSG - the Pakistan Special Service Group is also known as 'Black Storks' a name derived from their unique headgear the 'Maroon Beret'. The SSG has ten specific missions for which they are trained: Asymmetric Warfare, Special Operations, Counter-Proliferation, Unconventional Warfare, Foreign Internal Defense, Special Reconnaissance, Direct Action, Hostage Rescue, Counter-Terrorism and Personnel Recovery. This elite group from Pakistan is somewhat similar to the US Army's Green Berets and the British Army's SAS. They often conduct exercise missions with Special Forces from other countries such as China and the UK." he indicated a man of decidedly Indian-subcontinental descent with a bushy moustache.

"Artyom Vorobyov from the Russian Spetsnaz. What sets the Russian Spetsnaz apart from other specially trained special ops units around the world is their daily exposure to physical punishment. The purpose for this portion of their training is to teach them to endure physical pain and to work the mind to 'enjoy' it since it is impossible to ignore it. They are permitted to leave the training anytime they desire. Their missions generally involve reconnaissance and close quarter combat. Many of the bodyguards chosen for the high-tanking political figures of Russia are chosen from the Spetsnaz." the man he gesticulated at was covered in scars and was missing one eye, and had sunken cheeks and jaw.

"Now we have a good deal of my friends ... yes, I know it's surprising that I have friends." their coach paused for laughs, but none came. "Senior Aircraftman Charles Graydon of the RAF Regiment is one of them. The Royal Air Force Regiment is part of the Royal Air Force and functions as a specialist airfield defence corps founded by Royal Warrant in 1942. The RAF Regiment is trained in Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear defence, and equipped with advanced vehicles and detection measures. RAF Regiment instructors are responsible for training all Royal Air Force personnel in basic Force Protection, such as first aid, weapon handling, and CBRN skills. The regiment and its members are known within the RAF as 'The Regiment', 'Rock Apes' or 'Rocks'. After a 32 week trainee gunner course, its members are trained and equipped to prevent a successful enemy attack in the first instance; minimise the damage caused by a successful attack; and ensure that air operations can continue without delay in the aftermath of an attack. RAF Regiment squadrons use aggressive defence tactics whereby they actively seek out infiltrators in a large area surrounding airfields."

A tall man with short cropped hair stepped up. He was dressed in an Air Force blue suit and trousers with polished shoes that you could see the ceiling in. Upon his head he wore a peak dress hat.

"Lance Corporal Sam Brennan here is a Sergeant in the Royal Green Jackets - an infantry regiment of the British Army, one of two 'large regiments' within the Light Division (the other being the Light Infantry)." a slightly chubby man appeared behind them in a bottle green suit jacket and black trousers.

"Sergeant Dominic Edwards comes all the way from the Bermuda Regiment. The Bermuda Regiment is the home defence unit of the British Overseas Territory of Bermuda. It is a single territorial infantry battalion that was formed by the amalgamation in 1965 of two originally voluntary units, the all white Bermuda Volunteer Rifle Corps (BVRC) and the mostly black Bermuda Militia Artillery (BMA)."

The beefy chap walked up to Oberon in a white uniform tunic and black trousers with a red striped seam, as well as a black peaked cap.

"Corporal Connor Maguire is here from the Royal Gibraltar Regiment, which is the home defence unit for the British overseas territory of Gibraltar. It was formed in 1958 from the Gibraltar Defence Force as an infantry unit, with an integrated artillery troop."

Thin and gangling, a rather spotty youth approached in a blood red tunic, black trousers and white imperial helmet.

He was swiftly followed by a similarly dressed man with a huge bearskin hat to which a St. Patrick's plume was attached.

"Lance Corporal Luke Hardman is a member of the Irish Guards. Along with The Royal Irish Regiment, it is one of the two Irish regiments remaining in the British Army. The Irish Guards recruit in Northern Ireland and the Irish neighbourhoods of major British cities. Restrictions in the Republic of Ireland's Defence Act make it illegal to induce, procure or persuade enlistment of any citizen of the Republic of Ireland into the military of another state, however people from that country do enlist in the regiment. Nowadays they recruit from all around the United Kingdom and Commonwealth and recently, the regiment has also seen several 'non-traditional' recruits."

"Last but by no means least, let us welcome Staff Sergeant Ian Newton of the Queen's Own Glasgow. They can trace their formation back to the late 18th century, when King George III was on the throne, William Pitt the Younger was the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and across the English Channel, Britain was faced by a French nation that had recently guillotined its king and possessed a revolutionary army numbering half a million men. The prime minister proposed that the English Counties form a force of Volunteer Yeoman Cavalry that could be called on by the king to defend the country against invasion or by the Lord Lieutenant to subdue any civil disorder within the country."

A man stood smarlty to attention in a midnight blue suit with a gold strip running down the trouser seam.

"These will be your trainers, and you will address them by their ranks. Understood? Good! Spinnet, you're with Lance Corporal Hardman. Vaisey, you'll be training under Corporal Tague. Pucey, you've got Spetsnaz Vorobyov. Montague will be with Lance Corporal Brennan, McClaggen's working with Sergeant Ahmed, Higgs you get Sergeant Gruber. Fred Weasley - Corporal Smith. George Weasley - Sergeant Jones. Davies, you'll have Commander Akhbad. Longbottom, Sergeant Edwards. Malfoy, Corporal Maguire. Diggory with Corporal Tague. Lupin-Black ... you'll be working with Senior Aircraftman Graydon. Have fun!" Oberon leered. "Have fun."

* * *

The fireplace in Dumbledore's office flashed green suddenly and spat out two men. Two men he did  _not_  want to see.

"ALBUS! HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS A SECRET FROM ME!" Sirius roared, picking up a chair and chucking it at his former headmaster. "MARLENE'S ALIVE, AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME! WHY?"

Meanwhile, Remus had been twirling his wand complexly and sent a black curse at Dumbledore, striking him in the chest where it gouged a huge hole barely an inch from his heart. "You're lucky I'm so angry. If I wasn't," he growled menacingly. "I wouldn't have missed."

Sirius, not bothering with magic, reached over the desk and landed a stinging right hook to the old man's jaw, sending him flying across the room. "Don't you EVER cross me again." the animagus threatened through gritted teeth. "If you make one more mistake like this ..."

He grabbed Remus and swivelled on his heel, heading straight for the fireplace.

"... I will make it your last."


End file.
